


It Had To Be You

by TheLittlestOnion



Category: Real Person Fiction, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: F/M, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 10:13:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 34,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15661152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittlestOnion/pseuds/TheLittlestOnion
Summary: Joe Sugg has landed himself in hospital after attempting to slide down his stairs in a cardboard box. He meets a girl and before long they have a big secret to tell the world.





	1. Chapter 1

I glugged the last remains of my too hot coffee before pulling myself up out of the too low break room chair. A ten minute break was all I could squeeze in to my 12 hour shift but it was better than nothing. My feet were aching as I crossed the break room to put my mug in the sink before re-joining the busy A&E department.

The noise level increased exponentially as I swiped back into the unit. The waiting room was heaving with people and the heat was oppressive.

_Ah, A &E in August. My dreams come true._

I smiled to myself. I may be thinking sarcastically, but I wouldn’t change my job for anything in the world - I’d worked so hard to become a nurse practitioner in one of the busiest London A&Es at such a young age.

Passing by triage I grabbed the next patient’s notes before heading to my treatment room and logging back into my computer. I skimmed the notes: 26 year old male with a possible fractured wrist after sliding down his stairs in a cardboard box.

Oh for god’s sake! I chuckled to myself. A 26 year old bloke sliding down the stairs in a cardboard box? Sounds like a Peter Pan complex.

I stuck my head out of the door to shout the patient in, suddenly realising I hadn’t looked at the name. I checked the notes in my hands.

“Joe Sugg, please!” I shouted.

Wait.Why do I know that name? I pursed my lips as I tried to think where I knew the name. It was so familiar but I couldn’t place it, which wasn’t entirely unusual in my line of work as we often had our regular patients.

My eyes scanned the waiting room as a man stood up in the bottom right corner. He was average height with messy brown hair sticking up in all directions framing his angular face.

Oh my god. He even looks familiar.

I felt my face flush slightly as he made eye contact with me from across the room, indicating he was the person I’d shouted. He was very attractive. As he reached me I could see his blue eyes twinkling mischievously and I immediately knew I was right about the Peter Pan complex. This bloke was clearly a cheeky chappy. I stepped backwards to invite him into the room.

“Hi there, come on in and take a seat,” I gestured to the examination couch and closed the door behind him. “My name is Charlotte and I’m one of the nurse practitioners. Can you tell me what’s brought you to A&E today?” My usual opening line sounded a little rehearsed as I concentrated on his face, desperately trying to think where I recognised him from.

“Well, it’s a little bit embarrassing really,” he started, a very faint hint of a West Country accent jarred me.

I even recognise his voice from somewhere!

“Don’t worry, I’ve heard just about every embarrassing story going. There’ll be no judgement from me.” I reassured him with a wry smile. He picked at the loose threads of the rip in his jeans over his right knee and avoided my eye contact.

“I may have used a large cardboard box to sledge down my stairs, and it may have collapsed after a couple of steps and I landed at the bottom in heap with my arm twisted behind my back.”

I pursed my lips together to stifle a laugh as he finally met my eye. He looked so forlorn and impish at the same time – it was adorable.

“That was perhaps a bit foolish of you,” I began as I stood up to wash my hands.

“You said you weren’t going to judge me!” he exclaimed indignantly as his face reddened and his hair seemed to stand further on end.

I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as I finished washing my hands.

“Yes, you’re quite right. I should be more professional,” I joked as I approached him. “I just need to examine your arm and then we’ll see what our next steps are, okay?”

He nodded and there was a hint of vulnerability to him that made me soften my expression. I assisted him out of his sling and began to examine his arm. He gritted his teeth as I approached his swollen wrist and a sharp intake of breath accompanied his pained expression.

“Don’t worry, I won’t carry on,” I smiled reassuringly,“I’d wager you’ve definitely broken a bone, but seen as though I still haven’t got the x-ray vision I keep asking Santa for, I won’t be able to 100% confirm it until we have some actual x-rays.”

A small smile played on the corner of his mouth and he used his free hand to run through his wild hair, pushing it back into an unkempt quiff. The dark circles under his eyes seemed to make his blue eyes pop and I had to look away as he kept my gaze. I suddenly felt very uncomfortable. This was a patient, and I was finding myself very attracted to him.

I cleared my throat and retreated to my computer. “I’m just going to fill out an x-ray form for you and I’ll show you where you need to go. When you’ve had the x-ray come back to this waiting room and let the reception staff know you’ve returned.” I spun around on my chair to face him again.

“Your hair is very curly,” he said, his eyes on the mass of ringlets barely restrained by my hair clip on top of my head.

“Er, yeah,” I felt the warmth of a flush wash over my face as he scrutinised my hair.

“Sorry,“ he laughed, “I didn’t mean to say it quite so creepily!” He rubbed the back of his neck and ran his hand through his hair again. I wondered whether it was a nervous habit.

“So, this is your form,” I handed him the still warm sheet of paper that had just been spat out of the printer, “If you follow me I’ll point you in the right direction for the x-ray department.”

“Byron!” he loudly whispered as we exited the treatment room, gesturing to another man in the waiting room.A taller and more muscular guy in a vest top stood up, pushing his dark rimmed glasses further up his nose as he approached us.

“What’s the verdict, bro?” he drawled in a South African accent.

“They’ve got to take the arm, man.” Joe fake sobbed and clenched his fist to the sky in a ridiculous but endearing display of ham acting.

“Oh no. Not your vlogging arm, bro.” Byron dryly responded as he put a hand of mock sympathy on Joe’s shoulder.

Vlogging?

I gave the pair of them directions and sent them on their way as I mulled over the word vlogging. It brought back memories of watching YouTube videos by Zoella back when I was living at home up north in Yorkshire.

Oh my god, Zoella. Zoe Sugg! He was Zoella’s brother!

The overwhelming satisfaction of being able to place how I recognised him caused me to sigh and smile to myself. At least I hadn’t outright asked him where I knew him from, that would have been so embarrassing.

*

“A&E reception.”

“Hi Magda, it’s Charlotte. Have I got any returns?”

“Ah, hello Char-lot,” Magda’s Polish accent heavily emphasised the second half of my name which always made me smile. “You have two returns from x-ray. Do you want me to bring you their notes?”

“No worries, I’ll pop through to get them in a minute. Thank you.” I hung up from Magda and returned to the reception to collect my patient notes. First on the list was a young girl with a broken toe sustained in a bouncy castle incident that I splinted and sent on her way with painkillers.

Next up: Joe Sugg.

I desperately tried to ignore the frisson of excitement that sat in the pit of my stomach as I considered seeing him again. I swallowed hard and gathered my thoughts. Yes, he was very attractive. But he was a patient, and besides that he was essentially famous. There was no way he would even think twice about someone like me when he could have his pick of the girls.

That thought steeled me. I had no need to feel nervous; he was a patient in need of treatment who would never even think of me again once he’d left the hospital. The thought was both comforting and upsetting.

I shouted him from my doorway and watched as he ambled his way across the throngs of people in the waiting room.

“Is it always this busy?” he asked as he edged his way around an older gentleman in a wheelchair.

“Welcome to the NHS,” I smiled as I gestured for him to enter the treatment room. He pushed back his hair again and hopped up onto the couch without me having to tell him to.

I opened his x-ray results on the computer and studied them quietly for a few moments.

“Bad news I’m afraid, you’ve fractured both the bones near your wrist.” I slid myself to one side so he could see where I was pointing on the screen. “It’s a lovely clean break; you won’t need any surgery, just a pot on your arm for 6 to 8 weeks.”

“Oh no!” he exclaimed, laughing and groaning at the same time. “What an absolute idiot!”

He covered his face with his hand as I chewed my lip to stop myself from laughing at him.

“This is going to sound really random, but would you mind if I vlogged this?” he looked at me shyly.

I shrugged in acquiescence and watched in amusement as he fished a small camera out of his pocket with his good hand and held it out in front of him.

“Right guys, I’ve got an update for you. I’ve had my x-ray and I’m back with the lovely nurse, Charlotte.” I ignored the rush of pleasure I felt at hearing him say my name as he turned the camera on me. “Tell them what I’ve done,” he groaned.

“Are you giving me consent to share confidential medical information?” I asked stifling a grin.

“I give my consent.” Joe gave a solemn nod of his head.

“Okay, so our patient here has sustained stable transverse fractures to the distal aspect of his left ulnar and radius.”

Joe turned the camera back to his nonplussed face momentarily before returning it to me.

“Joe has broken his wrist”

He turned the camera back to himself and wailed, declaring his rock star career over and a few more dramatics before turning it off. He immediately seemed sheepish again.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, “but would you mind if I vlogged the x-ray as well and you could perhaps explain it?”


	2. Chapter 2

Charlotte’s long finger tapped the screen as she explained in depth about where the fracture was and the anatomy of the wrist. I could barely take my eyes off her. I hadn’t even noticed that the x-ray was barely in frame for most of her explanation.

Her dark brown curls bounced as she moved her head back and forth, talking animatedly about plaster of Paris and I had to concentrate hard not to brush one of the curls behind her ear.

“That’s brilliant!” I said when she’d finished. “Thank you so much, it was so cool of you to explain it all properly for me and my viewers.”

“No problem,” she shrugged and pulled the curl I had been admiring behind her ear. “I’ll just go and get the plaster trolley and we’ll have you out of here in no time.”

I inadvertently watched her leave, my eye falling to her bum in her baggy scrubs before I could chastise myself.

“Where’s the naughty nurse gone?” Byron had stuck his head around the door a moment after she left.

“Byroooonnn!” I called and beckoned him into the room. “Firstly, don’t be sexist. And secondly, I’ve broken my wrist!” I gestured to my poorly wrist and pulled my mouth into an exaggerated frown.

“Buddy,” he said sadly as he sat next to me, “that’s your budding rock career up in smoke.”

“That’s exactly what I said!”

“Yeah but I’m betting you said it to impress the nurse,” he laughed as I felt my neck start to redden.

“Too right,” I replied smiling, “now bugger off before she comes back.”

Byron sloped back out of the room with a wink and I waited for Charlotte to return, pondering the ethics of asking a nurse for their phone number.

She returned before long with a large metal trolley filled with bandages and a big bucket of water. I stood up to help her into the room with it but was shooed away.

“You’re the patient,” she laughed as she masterfully manoeuvred her way through the doors. “I appreciate the gesture though.”

I was instructed to lay back as Charlotte began plastering my arm. She was tantalisingly close.

“You remind me of holidays.” I said before I could stop myself.

“Sorry?” She asked, her eyes glistening with mirth.

Oh for the love of god. You idiot.

“Sorry. It’s just that you smell like holidays for some reason..” I trailed off and hoped that the ground would swallow me up.

Charlotte smiled. It was captivating. She had an uneven smile where her right cheek dimpled.

“I think it might be coconut you can smell, from my hair.” She lowered her head in an invitation for me to sniff.

“Yep,” my voice was suddenly strained and I quickly tried to clear it. “It’s definitely your hair, it reminds me of sun cream and Pina Coladas.”

We both smiled at each other as the tension in the room felt palpable.

Charlotte looked away and brushed another curl behind her ear leaving a small white mark on her temple. Instinctively I reached up to wipe it away and she froze, her eyes wide.

Shit.

“There, you’re all done.” She said as she stepped away from me.

Double shit.

I looked down, desperately trying to think of something witty or clever to say.

“Hey, don’t I get to pick what colour I have on my cast?”

The uneven smile returned and she shook her head. “No, this is just a temporary cast because we have to accommodate for your arm swelling. I’ll arrange you a follow up appointment before you leave.”

“So I’ll come back to see you again?”

“Um, no. You’ll have an appointment with the fracture clinic.”

“Right.” I tried to keep the disappointment from my voice as I pushed my hair back from my face.

All too soon Charlotte was opening the door and ushering me out. Byron fell into step with me as we passed the waiting room, his hands in his pockets with a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“Did you get her number, bra?”

“Shut up, idiot.”


	3. Chapter 3

My phone buzzed for the fourth time that minute as I laid face down in my bed. It was nearly two weeks after I’d met Joe and he’d played on my mind ever since. I went to his YouTube page a couple of times but couldn’t bring myself to click on any of the videos. Did I really need to torture myself?

I groggily reached for my phone as it buzzed again, annoyed that it was ruining my lie in. Prying open one eye I squinted at the too bright screen.

“Huh?”

It was Twitter notifications. Tens of them. I barely used my Twitter and I certainly hadn’t tweeted anything within the last few days so I couldn’t understand where the notifications had come from.

I skim read the first few as realisation dawned on me. They all mentioned Joe and his broken arm. He must have posted his vlog and somehow his fans had found me. Most of them were sweet, saying that I had taken good care of Joe but peppered in were less kind messages. Some telling me I was ugly, that I was flirty and should know better, others just calling me a bitch.

My heart pounded as I sat up, closing Twitter and throwing my phone to the other side of the bed. I wanted to pull the covers up and hide but it was far too hot and I’d stupidly agreed to do an overtime shift on my day off. A small piece of me was tempted to find Joe’s video but a bigger part of me knew I would cringe far too much.

I piled my hair on top of my head and showered, blasting Foo Fighters to wake me up. The water temperature was as inconsistent as ever, scolding me one minute and freezing me the next. I really needed to email the landlord about it again but he was as reliable as the shower and he always put me on edge. My flat was tiny but it was no excuse for how close he would stand to me, his beer belly rubbing up against me as he leered. That was the beauty of living in London on a nurse’s salary, a dinky flat with a grubby landlord and malfunctioning appliances. I wouldn’t change it for anything.

The bus was too hot and crowded with Lynx-doused teenagers. It gave me a headache as soon as I squeezed through the throngs of boys to find a place to stand. A group of girls had gathered on the back seats and I smiled to myself. It was like a school disco with all the boys and girls on opposite sides, both groups having loud whispered conversations and stealing furtive glances at each other.

I shoved my earphones into my ears and cranked up my music to drown them out. I closed my eyes as I let my head rest against the pole I was clinging to, the vibrations almost causing my teeth to chatter. It was quite pleasant in an unusual way. My eyes flew open as I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.

“Excuse me, but is this you?” One of the girls from the back row, who was sporting a large luminous pink bow in her hair, was stood behind me, thrusting her phone towards me. I glanced down and saw myself pointing to a computer screen with an image of an x-ray, talking animatedly at the camera.

Oh god...

I could feel my whole face redden as I stared at the video.

“Um, yes.”

“Oh my gosh!” Pink Bow squealed as she turned back to her friends, gesturing for them to join her as they all talked at once. “I knew it was you when you got on the bus but I couldn’t believe it! I was literally watching the vlog as you got on and you were on my phone and then you were there!”

The girl babbled excitedly for a few moments as her friends joined in and offered their shock too. I found myself stepping back, feeling like the protagonist in a zombie film. I didn’t know what to say or how to respond. It was all too bizarre.

“What was he like?” Pink Bow asked as Green Bow grasped her hands under her chin in a pleading fashion.

“Who?” I asked, feeling more and more eyes on me as my fellow passengers heard the commotion and strained to see what all the fuss was about.

“Duh, Joe!” Purple Headband piped up.

“Right, listen girls. I appreciate that you’re all very excited but it wouldn’t be very professional of me to talk about a patient.” I decided to play the nurse card in a hopes that the girls would retreat but they continued to press me for information despite my protests.

“Oh look, this is my stop!” I trilled as I quickly slid around the boys to exit the bus as it pulled into the next stop.

The girls waved fervently as the bus pulled away and I held my hand up in a half hearted attempt to return it. In my haste to get away from the brightly coloured hair accessory girl gang I’d gotten off the bus far too early and I was faced with a mile walk to the hospital. This wouldn’t normally have been a problem but the U.K. had been melting under the recent summer heatwave and it was 32 degrees Celsius, a temperature I was not at all accustomed to. And my shift started in 15 minutes.

Fantastic.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

“I really don’t think there’s anything wrong with just seeing if she’s on shift.” Byron said for the fourth time that afternoon. We were sat in the overcrowded corridor of the fracture clinic waiting for my appointment with the doctor.

“I don’t know man, I’m useless with this sort of thing,” I lamented as I shifted uncomfortably. It was so hot I could feel my back sticking to the beige plastic chair. “Don’t you think it would be a bit creepy?”

Byron jiggled his leg up and down as he contemplated my question.

“Well now I don’t know,” Byron replied, his good natured chuckle making me laugh too.

“I really am rubbish with all this girl stuff, Byron. I never know what to say and get all tongue tied.”

“I know, buddy. I’ve seen it in action.”

I shot him a dirty look before we started laughing again. It was true, he had seen my appalling attempts to speak to girls and most of those times I’d had good old Dutch courage inside me. I hadn’t had a girlfriend for years and I’d almost resigned myself to being a lifelong singleton.

After my appointment and a visit to the plaster room I was proudly sporting my new purple cast. Byron had encouraged me to get a black cast, his argument being it would go with more outfits but I wanted to be able to draw on it. Snazzy it up a bit.

Byron slowed his pace as we approached the entrance to A&E.

“Last chance...” he smirked as he turned to face me, walking backwards and gesturing to the doors.

“Oof!”

Suddenly, Byron was thrust towards me, his wide frame knocking me instantly to the ground and landing on top of me.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” A familiar voice rang out while I struggled to catch my breath. I peered up from the floor, imaging cartoon birds flying around my head.

The pair of us were sprawled on the pavement and as Byron rolled off me he muttered about being winded and concussed. The cartoon birds quickly dissipated when I realised that Charlotte was knelt next to me, her hair a wild halo around her face.

“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice filled with concern. “I’m so sorry, I’m late for work and I’ve jogged the last bit and I’m all hot and sweaty and I didn’t even see you and...” she trailed off. She was rambling. It was very cute.

“I’m fine. I mean, I’ve never been literally knocked off my feet by a woman before,” I laughed as she helped me up. Her hands were like fire on my skin, scalding hot and leaving trails of goose bumps in their wake. She smiled her breath taking uneven smile and I decided there and then – I needed to see if she liked me too.

“I really am so sorry. Is your arm okay?” Her brow furrowed in concern and I had to resist the urge to do something silly to make her laugh. Making people laugh was my default setting but I needed to gauge her interest, not see if I could make her pity laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fine guys!” Byron called up from the floor causing us all to laugh as we both helped him up. “I think Joe may be concussed though. Maybe you should take him inside for a more thorough examination.” The innuendo was practically dripping in his tone and I glared at him which only made him waggle his eyebrows suggestively. Charlotte started to back away and I made a mental note to evict Bryon from the apartment.

“I’m glad you’re both okay and sorry again.” Charlotte backed further away and held out her phone. “I’m so late, I really have to go.”

“Wait, um…” What could I say to her? She looked at me expectantly. “What time do you finish?”

Lame.

“10pm.”

“Oh,” I didn’t know why I thought she would finish at a reasonable time or what I had intended to say to her if she did. “Are you working tomorrow?”

She shook her head no and continued to back away, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Do you want to meet up and go for a drink or something?” I ran my hand through my hair in a nervous habit. Charlotte’s smile broadened and she shrugged her shoulders at me before disappearing into the doors of the A&E department.

I turned to Byron incredulously. “Was that a yes or no?” I asked as he practically turned purple he was laughing so hard.

“Oh, I like her, bro!” He managed to gasp between guffaws. “She would definitely keep you on your toes.” Byron wrapped an arm around my shoulders and slapped my back. He was enjoying it far too much for my liking.

“What am I supposed to do now?”


	5. Chapter 5

The smile had barely left my face for the entire shift. I couldn’t stop picturing Joe’s face when he asked me out. I was too shocked to know what to say. He actually wanted to go and get a drink with me. Me!

It was only as I sat with a moment to myself later in the day that I realised I had no way to contact him. I hadn’t given him a clear answer and we had no way of getting in touch with each other. Why had I been so flippant with my response!

My good mood slowly dissipated into anxiety. That was probably enough to put him off, why would he want to waste his time chasing me when he probably had girls clambering all over him.

The last two hours of my shift seemed to drag by as I over analysed our meeting earlier in the day. I finally finished at nearly half past 10 and changed quickly into my own clothes, throwing my used scrubs into the laundry skip before rushing out of the changing room. I was definitely going to miss the half past bus and would be faced with the dilemma of either waiting 45 minutes for the next one, walking the three miles which perhaps wouldn’t be the smartest thing during the night, or spending stupid money on a taxi or Uber.

I shouted my goodbye’s as I rushed out the unit which was already filling up with the Saturday night drunks. The doors slid open and I stopped in my tracks.

“Joe!”

There he was leaning on the wall across from the exit, his hair in a controlled quiff and a shy smile on his moonlit face. My stomach flipped as adrenaline coursed through me. Was he waiting for me?

“Hi,” his smile broadened as he approached me. “I hope you don’t think this is really weird of me. It’s just I didn’t know how to contact you and I really wanted to see you again.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” I smiled back at him, desperately wishing I’d looked in the mirror before heading out. No doubt I looked as sweaty and grim as I felt. “Oh hell, I’m going to miss my bus though.”

“Do you live far away? I could maybe order you a car?”

“I’m south of the river, near Clapham Common.”

Joe jerked his head up, one eyebrow cocked as he regarded me for a moment.

“Seriously?” he asked and I nodded. “I’m not far away from there myself. Would you feel safe to share an Uber with me?”

“Sure.”

No big deal. Just getting an Uber with Joe Sugg. Just your typical Saturday night.

“It’ll just be a few minutes.” Joe said after he’d requested it and slid his phone back into his jeans pocket.

I swallowed hard as I took him in. He looked like an off duty rock star. Tattered Converse with ripped black jeans and a dark grey Led Zeppelin t-shirt that was spattered with paint. He effortlessly looked cool and well put together. And then there was me; three quarter length black leggings and my baggy gym t-shirt with Pokémon on the front. Not exactly looking my cutest and most likely sporting a faint aroma of sweat from the day.

I wrapped my arms self-consciously around myself as we stood looking at each other. The air seemed thick and uneasy all of a sudden. I was almost in awe of his beauty. How had I never paid him any attention before, back when I used to watch his sister on YouTube?

“How’s your arm?” I asked gesturing towards his cast.

“It’s fine, thanks. I got the snazzy purple colour as you can see.”

“It’s very pretty,” I said dryly, enjoying the twinkle in his blue eyes.

We sat on the wall together for a few minutes waiting for the Uber, easing into a conversation about how Joe was going to decorate his cast. 

“Hey, Char!”

Startled, I looked up to see Jamie, one of my paramedic friends stood in front of me in his green jumpsuit uniform. I hadn’t seen him for a few weeks as he’d been on holiday. And it certainly looked like he’d caught the sun. His already deep skin tone looked positively golden and radiant even in the paling effect of the moonlight. He smiled and his teeth dazzled white.

“Christ! Look at you, handsome!” I squealed, standing up to embrace him. We hugged for a moment and exchanged kisses as I felt Joe shift uncomfortably beside me.

“I’ve got to run, gorgeous, but can we please have a drink next time you’re free?” Jamie clutched my hands and kissed them when I agreed. “Excellent! I’ll send you message to sort something out.” He joined another paramedic as they wheeled a patient past towards the ambulance entrance to A&E.

“Friend of yours?” Joe asked, his expression harder than before.

“No. I regularly hug and kiss strangers.”

His smile returned and he ran his hand through his hair, messing up his previously perfected tresses. I wondered what it felt like. It looked soft.

“I suppose I was really l asking if he was more than a friend.”

“I see.” I desperately tried to hide my grin but it still managed to break out. “Jamie and his husband are very happy together.”

“That just made me look like an absolute dickhead, didn’t it?” Joe covered his face with his hands and laughed. “I swear to god, I’m usually so easygoing. I’m just not very good with this kind of thing.”

The Uber ride was nice. We talked happily about nonsense and then when we crossed Chelsea Bridge we both expressed our love for it.

“The lights are perfect for a cheeky Instagram!” I laughed.

“I 100% agree - oh,” Joe interrupted himself, “I forgot to ask you for your number! That was one of the main reasons I essentially stalked you.”

Joe handed me his phone and I typed in my number before handing it back.

“If I ring this number now, will your phone actually ring? You haven’t palmed me off with a fake have you?” Joe asked with mock seriousness, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t all mockery.

I kept eye contact with him and smirked.

“Ring it.”

He couldn’t hide his uncertainty as he dialled.

Fall Out Boy erupted from my bag and I smiled at him.

“I would never fake number. I’d just tell you to piss off if I didn’t want you to have it.”

“Excellent song choice, by the way.”

“Ah, cheers, big ears.” I thanked him with a ‘you shouldn’t have’ hand swipe and he immediately reached up to his ears, a look of horror on his face.

“Have I got big ears?” He cried, tugging and pulling on his earlobes.

I laughed loudly and looked at him in astonishment. “You’re supposed to say: ‘Same goes, big nose!’”

“I have literally never heard that before in my life!”

I looked down at my phone to save Joe’s number and balked at my screen. There was even more Twitter notifications, all in the same vein as earlier.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, actually.” I handed Joe my phone. He sat in silence for a few moments as he scrolled through the messages. All traces of amusement fell from his face and I immediately regretted showing it to him. “It doesn’t bother me, I was just trying to wind you up...”

“I’m really sorry about this. I totally understand if you want nothing more to do with me.” He looked at me sincerely and I felt panic rising from my gut.

“No! I wasn’t trying to...” I couldn’t think of how to word it. “Look, can we just lay our cards on the table?”

Joe nodded warily.

“I fancy the pants off you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we first met. And I vaguely knew who you were because I used to watch your sister’s videos. I realise you come with baggage. But so do I. So does everyone.” I paused, waiting for his reaction.

“I fancy the pants off you, too. I haven’t stopped thing about you since we first met. I’m afraid I didn’t used to watch your sister’s videos, at this point I don’t even know whether you have a sister. But I’d like to find out.” Joe handed me back my phone as we pulled into my road.

“This is me,” I smiled, “I don’t want to seem too forward, but would you like to come in for a drink?”

“You sure?” He asked, his hair flopping over his eyes.

“The only problem is I have a tiny flat and I can’t guarantee that I haven’t got knickers drying on the clothes horse.”

“Doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”


	6. Chapter 6

Charlotte wasn’t lying; her flat was tiny. It was the same size as my bedroom. She had a small grey chesterfield sofa up against the bottom of her double bed with a small coffee table in front of that. It was surprisingly tidy.

“Holy shit! Look at the size of your telly!” I exclaimed having stepped further into the room and seeing the wall next to me. The screen must have been at least 60 inches, nearly filling the entire wall. “You a big movie buff?

“I do love films but I have the big telly for gaming,” she said with a gesture of her head to underneath the tv. There was several games consoles of varying eras; an Xbox One, a PS4, a Commodore 64 and a Game Cube were at the front but there was a mass of electronics behind them. “I’m a bit of a gaming nerd to be honest.” She pulled at her Pokémon top to demonstrate her point.

“Me too.”

Christ. If she can play an instrument too I may as well just marry her.

“Do you mind if I quickly jump in the shower? I don’t really feel like myself until I’ve washed work off of me.”

“No, of course.”

I sat on the sofa, scrolling anxiously through my phone. I had too much nervous energy making me feel on edge. I really liked Charlotte, and she seemed to like me too. I mean, I was in her flat at gone 11pm. I stood up and browsed her bookshelf. It was filled with medical books, classic novels, and tattered paperbacks. Each shelf was layered with books and any free space was filled with knick-knacks, Polaroid style pictures and partially burned candles.

I picked up one of the pictures to inspect it closer. It was Charlotte, in a stark white dress, holding a small emaciated baby to her chest as they both slept. The background appeared to be a dilapidated hospital with more emaciated children in sparse metal frame beds. The caption simply read ‘Uganda 2010 x’.

“I did a placement abroad when I was a first qualified as a nurse.” Charlotte was watching me from the door way of the bathroom, leaning against the frame. She had a pair of checked shorts and a white vest on. I tried very hard to pretend I couldn’t see her nipples. “I worked in Uganda for a month and then I went to Haiti after the earthquake to help with the rescue efforts.”

“Wow.”

“It was an incredible experience but it made me very sad for a long time.” Charlotte approached me and took the photo out of my hand, looking at it for a moment before putting it back on the shelf.“Would you like a drink?”

“What are you having?” I asked. She was stood tantalisingly close to me and I could faintly smell minty toothpaste and sweet vanilla presumably from her body wash. She glanced at my lips momentarily before looking back up at me.

“I can open a bottle of wine, or I have beer. I could even put the kettle on.”

We agreed on wine and settled onto the sofa, conversation flowing easily about our various travels, each of us trying to top the other one’s story.

“Why did you say that you felt sad for a long time? After Uganda and Haiti?” I asked.

Charlotte took a long sip of her wine and fiddled with the tassels of the blanket that was over the back of the sofa.

“It was the most incredible experience, it really was. But I had never been so acutely aware of my own privilege.”

I furrowed my brow in confusion.

“I felt like a spectator,” she continued, “or a rubbernecker. Taking a day trip into tragedy and being able to go home at the end of it. I felt so guilty.”

“But you were helping,” I said softly. “You were helping when other people weren’t. Take your ‘rubbernecking’ example. You didn’t just drive past, leering. You stopped your car, you got out and helped. And then when the ambulances turned up, you did the right thing by moving on. Nobody would have expected you to get in the ambulance and look after them once they got home.”

“I think that analogy may have been slightly lost in translation,” Charlotte smiled kindly, “but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Have you been back?”

“I couldn’t face it for a couple of years, what with one thing and another,” she waved her hand vaguely and looked anywhere but at me. “But now I try to got for three weeks a year at least. It can be really hard negotiating my leave with work.”

“Do they begrudge giving you time off to go?” I asked incredulously as Charlotte’s ears pinked.

“Well, I use my annual leave, but you usually can’t take more than two weeks at a time. It’s hard to find cover for longer than that.”

“Sorry to ask, but how much leave do you get?”

“6 weeks.”

“And you use half of it to work abroad?”

Charlotte nodded, the pink of her ears radiating now onto her cheeks. Was she embarrassed? Before I could quiz her any further she changed the subject.

“Are you hungry at all? I could make us something? Or I might have some crisps.”

I was hungry, but not necessarily for food. I shook my head no and she stood up with the empty wine bottle.

“Shall we do a quick fire round of questions?”I asked as Charlotte fetched the next bottle of wine from the small kitchenette.

“What do you mean?”

“We take it in turn to ask each other quick round questions. It’s a good way of getting to know someone. For example: Do you have any siblings?”

“Oh I see!” She smiled, returning with a rosé. “I have one sister who is two years older called Hannah. I suppose I already know about your sibling, unless there is a secret Sugg that you keep in the loft?”

“We don’t talk about Deidre,” I pulled a silly face and hissed like Hannibal, “she’s too dangerous to be allowed into society!”

Charlotte threw her head back and laughed loudly, her wine only just balancing on her knee. Her chest had started to turned slightly pink, a combination of the warm weather and alcohol probably starting to take effect.

“My turn,” she screwed her face up in thought. “Favourite colour?”

“Burgundy, you?”

“Burgundy?” She scoffed. “You’re definitely an artist, every other person would have said red or dark red.”

“What’s wrong with saying burgundy?” I exclaimed, accidentally slamming my glass down on the table in exuberance. “Your’s better be bloody good!”

“Purple! Like a normal person!” Charlotte laughed. “Not lilac or amethyst, purple!”

“Well, I feel very sorry for your lack of creativity.” I joked, sniffing indignantly. She rolled her eyes and pinched her lips together to stop from laughing and kicked my thigh playfully with her foot. She had swung her legs up onto the sofa and turned to face me, clutching her knees to her chest.

“It’s your turn.” She poked me with her toe again.

“Hmm...favourite animal?”

“Easy; dog.” She indicated towards me.

“Snail.”

“Are you taking the piss?!” She cried, pouring more wine into our glasses. “A snail is a mollusc!”

“I’m sorry, are you actually being that pedantic?!”

Charlotte threw her head back and laughed loudly, clapping her hands together.

“Wait, isn’t a dog a mammal?” I countered.

We good-humouredly bickered back and forth for a while, debating as to what constituted as an animal. It felt like we’d known each other for a long time and I found myself trying to tame the butterflies that were running riot throughout my body.

“Hometown?” Charlotte asked as we both paused to sip our wine, returning to our quick fire questions which were so far not very quick fire.

“Lacock in Wiltshire.”

“Oh, I’ve been there!” She exclaimed, sitting up. “One of the first road trips my friends and I did was down to Longleat, and we went to Lacock for a day trip!”

She excitedly tapped my leg and I had to concentrate hard on what she was saying, ignoring the pleasure I felt at her touch. Her eyes were such a deep blue you could almost call them sapphire, and they sparkled as she talked. There was a slight smudge of black under both her eyes, presumably the remnants of her makeup, but it gave her an edgy look like an off duty rocker. I could picture her wearing my leather jacket and nothing else...

“I was desperate to go there because I’m a bit of a Jane Austen fan and I knew they filmed some of the 1995 Pride & Prejudice there. And then obviously there is the Harry Potter connection – why are you looking at me like that?” Charlotte broke off and looked at me, perplexed. I realized I was simply staring at her, slightly agog.

“I’m sorry,” I gulped, “It’s just it’s usually me doing the tourism advert for Lacock. I’m not used to people knowing that much about it off-hand.”

A shy smile played on her lips and I wondered if they were as soft as they looked. I pictured myself leaning over to the other side of the sofa, gently cupping her face, and lowering my lips onto hers. I wanted to feel her. To taste her.

“Well, I’m from Doncaster and generally all people know about there is that it’s where Jeremy Clarkson and Louis Tomlinson are from.”She said, sardonically.

“It’s also where Open All Hours was filmed and set.”

Charlotte chuckled and nodded. “Very true and excellent trivia.”

“My turn.” I drummed my fingers thoughtfully on my knees. “Age? I’m 27 next month, you?”

“31 in December.”

“So you have a thing for toy boys…” I joked, raising an eyebrow and poking a finger into her side to tickle her. She squirmed and grabbed hold of my hands to stop me, launching herself forwards and pushing me down into couch. She hovered over me, holding my hands above my head, her fingers straining around my fingers due to my arm cast, and straddling my waist. Our laughter quickly subsided as we took each other in.

Charlotte slowly lowered her head and I freed my hands from hers, reaching up to hold her head as our lips met. Soft and delicate at first but quickly turning frantic and eager, our teeth briefly clashing as we urgently explored each other. My hands moved down her back as I sat up and we broke apart, gasping for breath with swollen lips.

 


	7. Chapter 7

I stared into his eyes, blue on blue as we heaved from our passionate kiss. I felt comfortable with Joe, more than comfortable. Safe. Neither of us said anything for a moment. I reached down and pulled my top off over my head, exposing my top half. Joe’s eyes hungrily searched my body and for once in my life, I didn’t feel self-conscious or insecure. I knew I didn’t have the perfect body. I had a belly and stretch marks and was paler than a ghost. But the way Joe looked at me – none of that mattered.

He reached down and pulled off his own shirt, his body slender but toned and I bit my lip in anticipation. We edged towards each other and pulled one another into another deep kiss, this time slightly calmer but no less intense. Joe’s hands tangled in my hair and he slowly traced one down my back and swirled it at my side. He pushed me slowly down and the leather felt cold on my back. We broke apart and he planted feather-light kisses along my jaw line and down onto my neck, pausing as he reached the hollow of my throat.

“Do you have any protection?” he whispered into my ear, his intoxicating scent clouding my thoughts. I nodded, unable to find my words and ran my hands through his hair to pull him into another kiss.

“Joe,” I gasped as his mouth skimmed my nipple, small shock waves firing through me to my core. “Oh, god.” I moaned as his fingers replaced his mouth. My hips bucked up and I felt his erection straining in his jeans. Joe’s hand trailed down from my breast, swirling over my stomach and inching to my waistband.

*

The next morning I woke with a start. I was far too hot and I felt a presence behind me.

Joe.

I turned onto my back to look at him just as he sleepily opened eyes.

“Morning,” he croaked, pushing the pillow in front of him down so he could hug it to his chest.

“Morning,” I replied. “I’m just trying to work out which of us has got the more out of control hair.” Joe’s was stuck out and varying angles while mine was just generally stuck out, my curls becoming more and more unruly as the night had gone on. He craned his neck up slightly to take in my hair.

“Bloody hell. Yours is definitely worse than mine.” He pulled a horrified face and I feigned offence before reaching out to tickle him. He slid quickly to the edge of the bed and grinned. “Too slow, sucker!”

His celebration was short lived however, as he had slid a fraction too far and fell out of bed, letting out a cry as his gangly limbs and purple cast unsuccessfully flailed to remain on the mattress.

“Ow.”

I laughed loudly as I scooted across the bed to take a look at him on the floor, but to my surprise he wasn’t there.

“Wha-“

“BAAA!” Joe’s hand grabbed me from under the bed and I squealed in fright as he laughed and tried to apologise, shuffling out from his hiding place. “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t resist!”

“You dick!” I shouted and threw a pillow at him, collapsing back onto the bed as my heart pounded out of my chest. Joe climbed back up, straddling my legs and resting on his elbows above me.

“I want to kiss you but we probably both have morning breath. So I need you to make a decision; are we going to brush our teeth or kiss anyway?” Joe raised a brow and bit his bottom lip, my stomach flip-flopping with desire.

“I’m gonna do more than kiss you,” I leaned up to meet his lips and pulled him down onto me, just as passionately as we had done last night.

We spent the next few hours wrapped in each other’s arms, either feverishly exploring one another or discussing everything from our respective childhoods to our favourite video game.

“I’m sorry, but you’re just downright wrong.” Joe exclaimed as his voice climbed an octave in outrage.

“How can I be wrong when that’s my opinion!” I exclaimed back, mirroring his pitch.

“Oh, trust me, you are wrong. Call of Duty: Modern Warfare was miles better than the original Call of Duty!” Joe sat up and gestured emphatically with his hands.

“I agree that the multiplayer CoD 4 was far superior to the first one, but I’m talking about the actual gameplay and storyline-“

“The graphics alone-“

“We’re not comparing apples and oranges here, Joe!” I sat up too, exasperated.

We stared at each other for a moment before both creasing into peals of laughter.

“Are we having our first fight?” Joe asked jokingly.

“That’s the honeymoon period over then, I reckon.” I leant back on the headboard, shaking my head sadly. I looked to Joe, expecting him to have a similar expression to me, but he looked serious. Too serious. “I was just messing…” I started but he shook his head to cut me off.

“I’m going to say something completely crazy. And you have every right to chuck me out or phone the police,” Joe grabbed my hands and sat in front of me, his appearance still grave.

“Okay…”

“I know that we have literally just met, and I’m not stupid but I just…I just know. Y’know?” His eyes had spectacularly widened and I was pretty sure that mine had too. “I’m in love with you.”

What?

“You’re pranking me, aren’t you…?”

“No.”

His earnest look told me all I needed to know. He was being serious. I felt like my mind should be reeling, but it wasn’t. It was surprisingly calm and clear. I loved him too. Was that even possible? For two people to fall in love overnight? I tried to think of examples to rationalise our feelings. It was just lust.

Passion.

Hormones.

“I love you, too” I said. And I meant it.

His face lit up with the broadest smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he leant in to kiss me.

“Can I say something even crazier?” Joe asked as we breathlessly pulled apart.

“Crazier than saying ‘I love you’ after knowing someone for 5 minutes?”

“Yeah.”

“…okay.”

“Will you marry me?”


	8. Chapter 8

“Gibraltar or Vegas?” Charlotte shouted from the sofa as soon as I turned off the shower. “Vegas doesn’t have a waiting time but it has a longer flight. Gibraltar has a 24 hour wait time but is only a three hour flight.”

“Is Vegas tacky?” I stuck my head out of the bathroom having wrapped my hair in a towel. Charlotte looked up and smirked as I posed in the door frame.

“I don’t think you’re currently in a position to judge whether something is tacky, Carmen Miranda!” She stood up from the sofa and used two remote controls as maracas to dance her way over to me.

“I’m far too young to understand that reference, madam.” I threw my head back indignantly and dislodged the towel, causing it to tumble to the floor, my wet hair falling over my eyes.

“That’s right,” she said lowering her tone and leaving the remotes on the kitchen side on her way over to me, “I had quite forgotten that I was cradle-snatching.” She pushed my hair back and pulled my head down toward her, kissing my forehead.

“What a lovely view I have,” I smiled as I came eye to eye with her cleavage.

“Hmm.” She hummed, planting kisses down my cheek and jawline. “I like these little moles,” she whispered as she kissed the small collection of moles at the angle of my left jaw. She continued her kisses down my neck, then my collar bone and down my chest. She dropped to her knees as she reached my belly button, pausing for a moment to flutter her eyelashes up at me. She tugged at the bottom of my towel, releasing it to the floor.

*

“If I press it there’s no going back.”

“Do it,” she replied with an excited smile.

I clicked over the touchpad and the page quickly refreshed to show a booking confirmation.

“Oh my god!” Charlotte cried, covering her mouth with her hands. “What have we done!”

“I do believe we have just booked first class tickets to Las Vegas with the intention of eloping.” I quipped.

“Joe, are we actually doing this?” Charlotte looked at me with big round eyes and I took a moment before I could reply. As far as I could see, she was the definition of perfection.

“Not only are we doing this, we’ve got four hours to pack and get to the airport!”

We ran around a Charlotte’s flat, throwing more and more ridiculous things into her suitcase, exchanging kisses every time we passed each other.

Once we established that she definitely wouldn’t need a pasta strainer, we removed the silly items and left the essentials. Clothes, toiletries, and passport.

“Do you have anything white to wear?” I asked after surveying the predominantly dark colours in her case.

“Are you somehow under the delusion that I’m a virgin?” She retorted with a cocked eyebrow.

“Perhaps not.”

“I’ll buy something in Vegas.” She shrugged. “To be honest, I could wear my work scrubs and I wouldn’t care. I used to think that I’d like all the planning and deciding what everything would be like at my wedding. But I know now that none of that stuff matters.”

She was right. None of that stuff did matter. It would have been nice, to be able to show Charlotte off to the world. For our nearest and dearest to watch as we declared our love proudly. But the real core of the day was about the two of us.

I smiled happily at her. “I feel like this may not be the last time I say this, but, you’re right.”

“Definitely get used to the sound of those words!”

“And do you know what words you need to get used to?” I countered.

She shook her head slowly after thinking for a moment.

“Mrs Sugg.”


	9. Chapter 9

Joe’s apartment was huge. You could probably have fit two of my flat just into his hallway. And it was surprisingly tidy for a bachelor pad. I wandered into the kitchen as Joe bolted up the stairs to pack his bag. I looked out at the view, admiring Battersea Power Station. I could see the power station from my one and only window in my flat and I’d spent many nights staring out at the red lights of the old towers. It seemed so strange to think that we could have both been looking at the same time less than a mile apart from each other.

A thought occurred to me as I absentmindedly flicked the table football handle to send the ball flying to the goal; would we live here?

I could hear Joe running back and forth upstairs, every now and again shouting something stupid, the last one being whether he would need to pack his wig collection. I stood at the bottom of the stairs as he tried on a variety, asking for my opinion on each.

“You just never know when you might need a ginger wig?” he feigned seriousness as I sat on the bottom of the stairs, looking up at him hanging over the banister.

“I can assure you, you will not need a ginger wig to elope.” I pressed and he pulled his mouth into an exaggerated frown. “The occasion clearly calls for the green one.”

Joe suppressed his smile as he swapped to the green wig, contorting his face into the most spectacularly ugly expression. “Do you still fancy me?” he asked with an over the top lisp.

I shrugged. “Meh. You’ll do.”

After a few more minutes Joe returned to the top of the stairs with his hold all and he paused.

“This is where it all began,” he said.

I crinkled my brow in confusion.

“How we met.”

I continued to stare at him, nonplussed.

He sighed. “This is where I slid down the stairs in a cardboard box and wound up in A&E.”

I laughed as he mimed sledging down the stairs, planting a kiss on me when he reached the bottom.

“I never did ask you why you’d done something so stupid.”

“You’re clearly not a fan of the vlogs,” he laughed.

*

The plane was unlike anything I’d seen before. We had our own compartment with seats that turned into beds, a TV with a computer system and storage around the sides. This was not your typical Ryan Air flight that I was used to.

I gripped Joe’s hand hard during take-off and he joked about needing another cast. He was so protective of me when I told him I was scared of flying, admonishing me for not telling him before he booked the 11 hour flights. We reclined our seats to make a bed and laid in each other’s arms, lazily talking about everything and nothing, Joe’s fingers tangling in my curls.

“Are you worried your family will be upset? I asked, my head resting on his chest, feeling comfortable and secure.

There was no reply and I peered up at him, lifting my head and rolling away slightly to be able to gauge his expression.

“No,” he whined, “I’m comfortable. Don’t move.” Joe pulled me back to where I had been laying and I happily obliged. I felt like I belonged there, snuggled into his side. Although, his toned chest was a bit too hard to make a comfy pillow. After a moment he replied.

“Are you asking because you’re worried about your family?”

I shifted. Were we already that in sync? Either that or he was very intuitive. Regardless, he’d hit the nail on the head. My mum had died when I was eleven and I had grown up with just my dad and sister. We had always been close and protective of each other. Would they be upset? In my heart I knew they would be happy for me, but would I be hurting them by eloping?

“I suppose I’m a bit worried my dad will be hurt. I just hope he understands.”

“If he’s anything like you’ve described to me, he will get it. Unless of course he doesn’t get it at all and tries to kill me.” Joe joked, although I could hear a slight tone of seriousness. I’d shown him pictures of my rugby playing dad and at 6 foot 4 inches and 20 stone, and Joe immediately pointed out that he was more than capable of snapping Joe in half. My dad was a gentle giant though. He looked aggressive with his large stature, closely shaved hair and heavily tattooed body, that many people were surprised to hear he was reception school teacher, spending the majority of his day working with 5 year olds.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asked quietly.

I looked back up at him and took in his worried expression, my heart expanding with love. I shook my head no, smiling as the worry left his face. This beautiful man was about to become my husband, it was a mind-boggling proposition. I reached up to cup his face and pulled him into a kiss. Gentle and sweet. Desire pooled deep inside me and the kiss intensified, both of us suddenly urgent and impatient.

“Um, Mr. Sugg?” A female voice accompanied a gentle tap on the partition of our compartment. We pulled apart breathlessly, giggling like kids being caught. “Are you ready for your inflight meal?”

We sat ourselves upright and straightened our clothes before Joe lowered the partition, a look of pure innocence on his face and a barely contained grin on mine.

*

The journey from the airport to the hotel was surprisingly short. We were in the car for less than 10 minutes and suddenly thrust into the clichéd bright lights of the Las Vegas strip. It was overwhelming. Even for someone who had spent the last ten years of her life in London and one of its busiest A&E departments.

The hotel had a large carport and as soon as we came to a rest in front of it our doors were opened by smartly dressed doormen, escorting us and our luggage into the opulent foyer. It was cavernous, with marble walls and gold accents. On our right was a large seating area with ornate gold furniture upholstered in a plush deep red and to our left a long marble reception desk with immaculately groomed staff floating back and forth down its length.

A tall man approached us, dressed in a three piece suit that fit him better than I’ve ever seen a suit fit a man before. He looked to be in his late forties with stylish salt and pepper hair and horn-rimmed glasses. He wore a gold name badge that read ‘Michael – Executive Manager’.

“Good evening, Mr. Sugg,” he held out his hand to shake Joe’s, “Welcome to the Vegas Plaza, my name is Michael and I’m here to make sure you have the most pleasant stay possible.” His smile was obsequious and it was clear to see he was a sycophant. I disliked him immediately. Joe had to release my hand to shake his and when he returned it, he squeezed my hand a couple of times. I looked to him and could tell he thought as much of Michael as I did.

Joe requested that we were taken straight to our room and I was surprised when we were directed away from the main bank of lifts to one that was by itself and had no button. Michael held a small card to grey panel where you would expect the button to be, and the doors opened instantly.

Michael the Sycophant turned to us with a shit-eating grin. “This is your own private elevator,” he paused to glance us over salaciously, “so don’t worry about sharing with others.”

We stood in silence for the surprisingly long journey as Joe and I stifled our mirth at Michael’s suggestive behaviour. It was no better when we were shown around the palatial penthouse suite, with him lingering for too long in the bedroom and inquiring whether we would be in need of a turn down service or would we be jumping straight into bed.

“Gonna turn down your turn down service, mate. We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.” Joe reached into his pocket and produced some dollar bills to tip him and practically escorted Michael out of the suite.

I sat on the end of the bed, my legs dangling it was so high. I kicked off my shoes and laid back, staring up at the canopy of the four poster. This must have cost an absolute fortune. I had to squeeze my eyes hard tight as images of my Ugandan hospital crossed my mind. The money spent on this room - sorry, suite- could probably fund the hospital for a month. Guilt flooded my senses and before I knew it hot tears spilled down the sides of my face.

“Charlotte,” Joe scrambled onto the bed and pulled me into his arms. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to see me.” I furiously swiped away my tears.

“Tell me, please.”

“You’re going to think I’m awful.”

“Unless you’ve managed to have an affair in the time it took me to see Michael out, I really don’t think anything you could do would make me think you’re awful.” Joe cupped my face and wiped away a tear with his thumb.

“I was thinking about how much money this must have all cost and then it made me feel so guilty. Like, the cost of us two flying over here could probably have saved hundreds of lives in Uganda.” I couldn’t look him in the eye. I knew he would think I was rude and unappreciative.

“And that’s why you’re crying?” He asked softly. I nodded and he held me to his chest until my sobs had subsided. He turned me to face him and I dared to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, “I don’t mean to be ungrateful -”

He cut me off. “Charlotte, you are the most spectacular creature. I got caught up in the idea of sweeping you off your feet, forgetting that actually it’s you that’s done the sweeping.”

I furrowed my brow. “What?” I asked in confusion as Joe got up and stood in front of me.

“I thought I needed to do all this to impress you but I should have known that it would upset you. I did listen to you the other night, when you were telling me about Uganda, but I should have understood more.”

I stood up and kissed him. He was so sweet. He wasn’t mad at me and if anything he seemed upset that I was upset. We could have gotten lost in a circle of guilt but instead we decided to sit and talk about it. Joe told me how he often felt guilty that he had money when others didn’t, and he donated to certain charities but never quite felt like he was doing enough. He told me that he was an ambassador for Age UK and loved his work with older people.

“You know I don’t think that you’re uncharitable?” I reassured. “I would never think that you were flashy or didn’t care about anyone else. It’s my own guilt that the problem. I just feel that I should do more.”

“I’m not going to pretend to understand the intricacies of this, but all I can do is assure you that if you feel like you want to do more, you absolutely can. We could maybe set up a foundation to raise funds, or whatever it is you think is most appropriate.”

“You’d really do that for me?” I asked in awe.

“I’d do anything for you.”

*

The next morning I woke up at 6am, light streaming in from a crack in the curtains. I groggily pulled the covers up around my shoulders. We’d set the air con at the lowest it would go, purely thanks to the novelty of actually having air con, and I was now regretting it. I snuggled into Joe and he shifted in his sleep to accommodate me. I marveled at how well we fit together.

I dozed on and off for an hour until I could no longer avoid the fact I desperately needed to pee. I carefully slid out of Joe’s arms and tiptoed to the ensuite, delicately closing the door behind me and rushing to the toilet. I stared into the mirror as I washed my hands. My long curls were a mess, but not irretrievable and my skin was clear enough, even if it was paler than paper.

Today, I told myself, is my wedding day.

Oh my god.

I splashed some water on my face and brushed my teeth before returning to the bed. Joe was still asleep and I slipped back in, reveling in the warmth. His eyes fluttered open as my cold legs hit his and a lazy smile played on his lips.

“It seems like you need warming up.” Joe croaked and wrapped himself around me, his erection at my hip.

“And it seems like you need cooling down.” I retorted, pressing my hip against him, rubbing slowly.

“That’s the wrong way to go about cooling me down,” he whispered into my ear before gently grazing my earlobe with his teeth.

“Oh, really?” I feigned innocence and wriggled further into him, delighting in his slight moan. He pulled me onto my back and straddled my hips, leaning down to kiss my neck, his hair flopping down and tickling my face. I reached up and ran my fingers through it, pushing it back and planting kisses along his hairline.

My breath hitched as Joe nipped my bottom lip and ground his erection against my groin. He repeated the action twice, three times and I gasped as he caught my most sensitive area, electric shocks of pleasure radiating throughout my body. I bucked my hips and groaned.

Joe returned to my ear and whispered, his voice thick and sexy. “I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

*

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister exclaimed as Joe and I turned to each other with shock and happiness on our faces. “You may kiss your bride.”

Joe waggled his eyebrows at me as we leaned into each other, eliciting woops from the two witnesses in the pews. The kiss was short but intense and as well pulled apart we both laughed. We’d done it.

We posed for pictures, pulling silly faces and positions, and a couple of serious ones to be able to actually give to people. I’d settled on a knee length white lace dress and Joe wore slim fit grey suit trousers and waistcoat with a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was the epitome of cool. And he was my husband.

Joe insisted on carrying me across the threshold of the hotel room before throwing me onto the sofa and declaring he was going to consummate the shit out of me. He wouldn’t accept that this wasn’t very romantic, but was definitely amusing.

“I can’t believe we’ve done this.” I said as we lounged on the floor, having fallen off the sofa some time ago.

“I know, I think I’ve got carpet burn.” Joe smirked at me and I slapped his arm.

“My hand looks very strange with a wedding ring on.” I held my hand in the air, marvelling at the small white gold band.

“How do you think I feel!” Joe laughed, holding his cast up. “At least you’ve not got this bugger hampering your style!”

We decided to venture out in the evening to experience the Vegas nightlife before our flight back home the next morning. I begged Joe to wear a white shirt like he had for the wedding. It set off his tan and he was in real danger of me ripping it off him. Joe begged me to wear nothing.

Michael the Sycophant had arranged for us to be escorted in case we were ‘mobbed’.

“I hardly think we’re going to bum-rushed!” I laughed as Joe smiled.

“It’s happened before,” he said with a look of apology.

I narrowed my eyes at him, not quite sure if he was serious. “What do you mean?”

“Last time I was here a fan posted a picture of me on a message board and a couple of hours later I was surrounded by a gaggle of about 20-25 girls.”

I felt my jaw slacken and I stared at him incredulously. “But we’re in the USA, how many people can know you over here?”

Joe shrugged sheepishly and we entered one of the bigger casinos. It was loud, voices and the sounds of slot machines ringing and wooping creating a cacophonous roar. The air felt cool which was a great relief from the evening heat and there was feint smell of something sweet.

“Did you seriously not look me up after we met?” Joe asked as we ordered our drinks, a Guinness for him and a martini for me.

I shook my head no.

Joe looked at me before grinning. “So you have no idea how many followers I have or anything about my career?”

“Not really, no.”


	10. Chapter 10

“You might be in for a bit of a surprise when we go back to England,” I chuckled, handing Charlotte her drink and taking a large gulp of mine. “I have 8 million subscribers on my main channel and around a billion views .”

She stared at me, her expression unreadable. I continued, “I released the fastest selling graphic novel of all time, I’ve produced and stared in two feature length films and voiced a seagull in the Spongebob film.”

Charlotte clamped her lips together and I could see her fighting hard not to laugh.

“You want to laugh about the Spongebob thing, don’t you?”

She nodded, her eyes filled with mirth and her cheeks puffed out as she slapped the bar.

“You saved Spongebob for last!” She exploded, laughing loudly and doubling over. I stood watching her as she tried to control herself, but every time she looked back at me she began tearing up again and had to compose herself. After a few moments she cleared her throat and shook back her curls.

“So, how bad is it? Can you go to the shops? Or, I don’t know, out for a meal?”

“I can do all that, of course. But I’m probably approached around 20 times an outing for photos or people wanting to speak to me.”

Charlotte twirled her olive around her glass before popping it into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I told you, the other night in the Uber that I knew you came with baggage. Perhaps I had misjudged the sheer amount of baggage, but it doesn’t change my feelings. It’s just part and parcel of you. And I love you.” She looked at me earnestly and I swear I could physically feel our love. My heart almost hurt it felt so full.

“God, I’m so lucky to have found you,” I murmured and pulled her in to kiss her. She tasted like her martini and her hand snaked around my neck, pulling me deeper into the kiss. We broke apart, breathless and heaving. “I know we’ve just come out of our room but my word I want to take you right back.”

She winked and ordered two more drinks as I ran my hand through my hair. I needed a moment to compose myself and quash the desire that was circulating throughout my body.

We sank a few more drinks before heading over to the roulette table where Charlotte dominated the game and then to craps where I schooled the table. We laughed loudly, drank heavily and before long had worked our way through our chips, our winning streak depleting as the alcohol in our systems rose.

“Hi, excuse me?” A southern American voice came from behind me as we propped up the bar, deciding whether to have another drink before returning to the hotel. I turned to see a woman who looked to be in her early twenties, with long blonde hair and an extremely tight red dress. “Are you Joe? ThatcherJoe?”

“That’sa me,” I slurred, trying my hardest to look sober despite the fact I was pretty sure I had one eye open wider than the other. “I used to thatch.” I pointed my thumbs to myself.

“Oh my gosh, I’m such a big fan!” The blonde gushed and pulled out her phone. “I don’t mean to interrupt but could I trouble you for a photo?”

I nodded. “’Course, no problem!” I took her phone and held it aloft, posing next to her for the selfie.

“Thank you so much! I just watched your latest video with your poor broken arm,” she gestured to my cast, “I hope you feel better soon!” She stared at my hand for a moment before turning to Charlotte.

“Weren’t you in the video too?” She asked Charlotte who nodded slowly in return.

“She’s my wife.” I smiled proudly and waggled my fingers to show off my ring.

“Oh?” The blonde looked confused for a moment but all I could see was Charlotte. She was leaning on the bar with one arm, the other on her hip and she was swaying slowly. To the untrained eye it would have seemed like she was dancing to the music but I could see that she was just doing everything in her power to remain upright. We were beyond drunk.

“If you ‘scuse me. I need to take ma wifey for sleeps.” I patted the blonde on the head for some reason, and slipped my arm around Charlotte’s waist, looking around for the escort the hotel had provided. I got their attention and indicated we were ready to leave, collected Charlotte’s handbag from the bar and guided her out of the hectic environment of the casino.

Charlotte fell asleep on my shoulder on the ride back to the hotel and I felt contented. Life had never seemed so good. I intertwined my fingers with hers, taking comfort in the feel of her metal wedding band. I needed to get her an engagement ring. We’d missed out that step. Although, to be fair, we’d missed a lot of steps on our short journey together. I checked my watch to see if it would be possible for me to sneak in some ring shopping.

It was 2 am.

Perhaps not.

 

*

 

The flight home was horrendous. Turbulence combined with two heavy hangovers made us green and bilious for the entire ten hour flight. We laid next to each other, taking it in turns to argue who was the most poorly.

“Why did we drink so much?” I lamented for the umpteenth time that hour as we slumped into the Uber outside Heathrow.

“Because we’re idiots,” Charlotte croaked, her hangover had affected her voice and she now sounded like Patty & Selma from The Simpsons. A fact she did not appreciate being pointed out.

“I wonder if this is going to kill or cure the jet lag?” I pondered out loud, resting my head back with my eyes closed and letting the car rock me.

“You’ve got the world’s longest neck.”

I opened one eye to peer at Charlotte who was holding her forearm up against my throat to compare length.

“Did I forget to tell you that my dad is a giraffe?”

“Giraffe? Oh, I thought you said his name was Geoff.” She deadpanned and my laugh was cut short by the pounding of my head.

“Oh god, don’t make me laugh,” I moaned. She laid her head on my shoulder and clasped my hand as we settled in for the hour ride back home.

*

“We’re here, sir.”

I bolted awake to the Uber driver tapping my leg from the front of the car. My head was throbbing and I was desperate for a drink.

“Babe, we’re here.” I squeezed Charlotte’s hand and she shook me off, demanding another 10 minutes. “No can do.” I chuckled.

Charlotte muttered under her breath about the youth of today having no respect and furiously rubbed her eyes, smudging a black halo around her lashes.

“I’ve got an awkward question,” she said after we traipsed through the foyer and were stood wearily together in the lift.

“Hmm?”

“Well, this is a weird situation, obviously, but you do realise we haven’t even discussed living arrangements?” She looked at me hesitantly and I realised she was right. We hadn’t discussed the logistics of our lives together at all.

“We’ve probably gone about this the complete wrong way, haven’t we?” I laughed as she grinned at me. “Do you want to discuss it now or do you want to sleep and discuss it in the morning?”

Charlotte hugged herself into my chest and sighed. “I want to drink a gallon of water, take some painkillers and go to bed with my husband.”

Husband.

A frisson of happiness surged through me and I kissed the top of her head, breathing in her glorious coconut scent.

“Excellent plan.”

We exited the lift and to my surprise the front door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and in panic shut it quickly again with us still in the hall. All my friends had been sat on the couch, shouting and cheering at the TV. How could I have forgotten about Byron?!

“Um, sweetie. I don’t think you under how doors work.” Charlotte joked as she looked at me in confusion.

“You know how I told you about my room mate, Byron?” I started, unsure how to finish.

“Yeah...” she trailed off in uncertainty.

“Well it would seem that he has invited all our friends around for a game of FIFA and at this present time they are all sat around the couch.”

She pursed her lips and rubbed at her face again.

“I look awful.”

“You couldn’t possibly look awful, even if you tried.” I kissed her and she glared at me.

“Joe, I look like dog shit.” She insisted, gesturing to her face.

“I’m ignoring that,” I chastised. “We’ve got two options; we turn around and go to your flat or we try and sneak up to the bedroom.”

“Oh fuck it. They’ll see me like this sooner or later.” She smiled at me and gestured for me to open the door.

“You sure? They can be quite...how can I put it? Hectic.”

Charlotte shrugged and leant up to kiss me. “Try working a Saturday night shift in A&E. Hectic I can handle.”

We took a moment to steel ourselves before I opened the door and the cacophony engulfed us.

“Suggy!” The boys called out and hollered as they saw me and one by one they stopped in their tracks as they noticed Charlotte. “Oooh, Joe’s got a girlfriend!”

I held her hand and pulled her to me. For all her bravodo in the hallway I could feel waves of anxiety radiating from her.

“Guys, I have an announcement,” I shouted as Mikey knocked two beer bottles together clumsily to draw attention. “This is Charlotte.”

“Hi Charlotte!” The boys chorused and Charlotte held up her hand in a half embarrassed wave.

“It’s Charlotte the nurse!” Byron called and the rest of the guys all talked at once, nudging each other and instantly turning into school boys.

“As I was saying,” I bellowed over them, “this is Charlotte. My wife.”

Silence.

“Well, that shut them up.” Charlotte muttered under her breath.

“Is this a prank?” Josh asked after a moment of quiet.

I shook my head no. The boys exchanged glances.

“You two are married?” Caspar stood up and gestured at us. “Like, legally married?”

In unison we held up our hands to show our rings. There was a beat before they erupted again.

“Bloody hell, Joe!” Mikey roared as he pulled me into a bear hug. “Congratulations! I can’t believe it!” He released me and wrapped his arms around Charlotte in an attempt to be affectionate although it seemed he just squashed her. One by one Caspar, Josh, Byron and Jack all came to congratulate us with hugs, back slaps and awkward pecks on the cheek.

“How did this happen?” Jack asked after the initial furore had subsided and we recounted our whirlwind few days.

“And this definitely isn’t a prank?” Caspar narrowed his eyes at us and then glanced around the room, presumably look for hidden cameras.

“Not a prank, Caspar,” I confirmed. “And I know I don’t have to tell you guys to keep a lid on it for now, but even our families don’t know yet.”

Promises of silence were offered from everyone and a bonus lock and key gesture from Mikey.

“I think we should maybe give the newlyweds some space, guys,” Byron said with a suggestive wiggle of his brows, much to the amused sniggering of the rest of the boys.

“Come on, we can go back to ours,” Josh said as he and Caspar rounded up the group and ushered them towards the door.

Byron pulled me aside while Charlotte was distracted by another awkward hug from Mikey. “I told you to get her number, bru. Not marry her!” He teased.

“You know me, I don’t do things by halves.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

Joe closed the door behind them and sighed, slumping against it before sliding to the floor. He wailed dramatically and pretended to cry.

“Can we go to sleep now, baby?” I begged, crossing the living room to him with my arms outstretched to help him up. “I’ve got work in the morning.”

“Oh?” Joe grabbed both of our bags and nodded his head for us to go up the stairs. “What time do you start?”

“I start a 7,” I yawned, “I need to have a look which bus I need from here actually.”

“Sorry, did you say 7? As in 7am” Joe stopped in his tracks to stare at me aghast. “Like, 7 in the morning?”

“Yes,” I smiled, “that’s what time many people start work, sweetie” I jokingly patronised him.

“Sod that,” he muttered, throwing our bags onto the bed. “I’ll order you a car.”

I snorted as I opened my suitcase up to find my wash bag. “I don’t need a car, just need to find the bus stop.” I kissed his cheek on my way to the ensuite.

“It’s no problem, I’m happy to do it.” Joe followed me to the ensuite and grabbed an armful of his products off the countertop for me to put my toiletries down. I rubbed my cleanser into my face creating an excellent raccoon impression while Joe watched in amusement.

“It’s not about it being a hassle. I always get the bus, I’m perfectly fine on the bus.” I let the hot water run for a moment before wetting my face cloth and using it to wipe my face. Joe was leaning against the door jamb, an uneasy expression on his face.

“I don’t want to start coming across as possessive, it just worries me that you’ll be out and about at silly o’clock in the morning on and off busses.” Joe was picking at the thumb area of his cast. His worry was cute but was definitely something that needed to be nipped in the bud sooner rather than later. I’d been living in by myself London for nearly ten years. I’d never needed a knight in shining armour before and I certainly didn’t need one now.

I finished washing my face and turned to him, cupping his cheek to angle his face towards me. “I can look after myself.”

“But you don’t have to anymore,” Joe sighed, snaking his arms around my waist and pulling me into his body. “We can look after each other.”

Any annoyance I was holding immediately dissipated. He wasn’t trying to control me, he was simply demonstrating his affection in a way I wasn’t used to. The purple circles under Joe’s eyes seemed darker than ever and made his blue eyes seem green. I stroked my thumb back and forth across his cheek and drew him towards me, mouths slightly parted in anticipation.

The kiss was deep and hungry and within moments we were pulling at each other’s clothes, desperate to explore each other further.

“Do you care about this dress?” He murmured.

I shook my head no, too breathless to speak and in one fluid action Joe ripped my dress from the neckline to my waist, exposing my chest instantly. He pulled at the rest of it and allowed it to drop to the floor, leaving me standing in just my bra and pants. Joe quickly slipped his top off, using his good arm to pull it over his head. For such a slender figure he was incredibly toned with defined abs and his tracksuit bottoms hanging insanely low on hips.

I reached for his waistband but Joe caught my wrist and shook his head, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

“No, no, Mrs Sugg,” he teased, “I do believe it’s your turn.”

 

*

 

I had to beg Joe to stop. It was far too intense after my third orgasm and I couldn’t catch my breath. I pulled at his hair to remove his mouth from my most sensitive area.

He languidly traced his tongue around me a few more times before kissing my inner thighs and trailing the kisses up my body. He paused at the hollow of my throat and looked up at me through long eyelashes before thrusting into me. Joe rested his forehead on mine and our bodies became like one, our rhythm syncing as we gasped and groaned.

Never in my life had anyone been as attentive as Joe, or put my needs before their own. Sex with him was a whole new experience; hedonistic and indulgent. I felt wanton and irresistible, something I was not at all used to.

I could feel the pleasure building once again and closed my eyes, digging my hands into Joe’s back as I struggled to control my reaction.

“Are you close?” Joe asked in a strained voice and I vigorously nodded my head. “Oh, thank fuck,” he gasped and as I tipped over the edge again he collapsed into me with a few final thrusts.

We laid together for what seemed like an age before Joe rolled onto his back next to me. I could barely think straight, I was so consumed with the after effects of our passion.

I woke with a start. Where the hell was I and why did my back hurt? Recognition came slowly and I realised that Joe and I were still laid on the floor of the ensuite, the cold tile as our mattress. I groaned as I tried to sit upright, my back unhappy with the situation.

“Joe?” I shook him awake. “It’s 3am and we’re still on the floor.”

He stretched and whined, rolling onto his stomach. Along his back were bright red scratch marks, symmetrical from his spine to his ribs.

“Holy shit, Joe!” I exclaimed, reaching out to inspect the marks further. “You’ve got marks all over your back”

“From sleeping on the floor?” he asked, his voice muffled as his face was tucked under his arm.

“It doesn’t look like - oh,” I stopped myself as I realised what had happened. “I think it’s nail marks.”

Joe peered up at me and cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve branded me?”

“I’m so sorry!” I laughed, shocked that I’d been the cause of the vivid scratches that were marring the skin on his back. I had no recollection of having done it but a vague memory of my hands searching Joe’s back did float briefly across my mind.

We slumped into bed and fell into an exhausted sleep, not moving until the shrill persistence of my alarm disturbed us at 6am.

“Oh, that’s barbaric,” Joe whined as I scrambled to find my phone in the remnants of our clothes from last night. “That’s definitely not though.” I turned to him and he was eyeing my naked form salaciously, posing on his side.

I rolled my eyes at him. “Go back to sleep,” I chastised, making my way over to the ensuite for a shower. The water was hot but very much needed over my sore muscles. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. Our intense sex combined with a few hours on the floor, the flights and subsequent hangover, and the whirlwind of our romance played havoc with every part of me. I had never felt so sore in my life.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as Joe slid into the shower behind me, enveloping me and placing feather-light kisses on my shoulders.

“Joe! Your cast!” I squealed, realising he’d come in without protecting his cast from the water.

“I couldn’t give a fuck about the cast,” Joe’s voice was low and hungry, dripping with desire and my mood instantly mirrored his. He pushed me against the cold tiles and I found myself unable to resist him. “Wrap your legs around me,” he murmured and I obliged, feeling his erection push against me. He thrust and I threw my head back, making heavy contact with the wall and stars bursting behind my eyes.

Joe stopped, checking I was okay as we suppressed our giggles.

“I’m fine, don’t stop.” I pleaded and as he repositioned himself he lost his footing, sending us both clattering to the floor with groans and expletives. We paused for a moment, taking each other in before bursting into raucous laughter.

“I think that might have killed the mood,” Joe groaned as we tried to untangle ourselves under the flow of the water.

“Probably a good thing, I’m already so sore. I’d have been walking like John Wayne all day.”

Joe handed me a towel. “Really?” he asked, his eyes lighting up with mischief.

“I’m not going to feed your ego any further, Mr. Sugg,” I huffed and ushered him out of the bathroom. “Now bugger off so I can get ready in peace.”

When I stepped back into the bedroom Joe was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone.

“I’ve look up the bus timetable and I was going to walk you to the stop,” he said, an edge of uncertainty in his voice. He seemed to be waiting for my reaction, possibly concerned I would blow up at him.

“Thank you, Joe,” I smiled sweetly at him, and resisted the urge to kiss him. That would only lead to running even more late. “That’s so thoughtful of you, I really appreciate it.”

I was rewarded with a 1000 megawatt smile and my heart swelled with love once again. I threw on some leggings and a top, forced my hair into a bobble and swiped some mascara on. I looked flushed and bright eyed. Being with Joe was good for me.

“Right, lover boy, let’s go!”

 

*

 

Joe had waited with me at the bus stop, and insisted on kissing me goodbye before he would let go of my hand. When I told him I didn’t finish until 8pm he looked heartbroken and to be perfectly honest, I felt heartbroken. The thought of going all those hours without seeing him was a daunting one.

Work was busy and frantic, just how I liked it. Except, everything seemed to take just a little bit longer, mainly because I was thinking about Joe.

We still hadn’t discussed anything important, like the dynamics of our living situation or telling our families. The bubble was still firmly in place and I couldn’t help but wonder if it might all pop when reality started to set in. Everyone was going to think we were insane. Maybe we were.

“Are you wearing a wedding ring?!”

I jumped and span around in my chair. Jamie was stood in the doorway, his mouth agog. I hadn’t thought to take off my ring.

“Ssshh!” I hissed and ushered him into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Are you wearing a wedding ring?!” He asked again in an exaggerated whisper.

I nodded slowly as a ridiculous grin split across my face. Jamie’s expression didn’t change, he continued to stare at me with his jaw loose.

“Say something.”

“Are you serious?!” He exclaimed loudly, clasping his hand over his mouth as I shushed him again. “Are you actually serious?!” He hissed in the over-the-top whisper.

I nodded again.

“Who the fuck did you marry?!” Jamie grabbed me and sat me on the edge of the treatment table, grasping my hands and inspecting my ring.

“It’s a long story but do you remember when you saw me on Saturday?”

“The cute guy who clearly thought I was a threat?” Jamie asked after a moment’s thought.

“Him.”

“Damn.” Jamie chuckled and I had to swear him to secrecy before telling him the events of the past few days. He gasped and swooned in the appropriate places and rather than receiving his judgment, he simply hugged me and told me how lucky Joe was to have me. A true friend.

When I left work, Joe was outside, in the same position he’d been in the last time. We shared shy smiles for a moment.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” I grinned as we embraced. He smelled intoxicatingly masculine and I felt the electric tingles of desire zip through my body.

“I could say the same for you,” Joe murmured in my ear and I snorted as I pulled away.

“Oh yes, I’m sure I’m quite the stunner after my 13 hour shift.” I joked and was startled by the intensity in Joe’s eyes as he regarded me.

“Charlotte, you are the epitome of effortless beauty.” He said seriously and I rolled my eyes at him, uncomfortable with the compliment. He sighed but didn’t push any further. “Anyway, I thought we could get the bus home together.”

“Perfect.”

We chatted about our respective days on the way to the bus stop and Joe listened intently when I spoke. It was refreshing. My exes had never been very attentive, unless of course they wanted something. With Joe it was different. He asked questions and genuinely wanted to know the answer, not just blankly nodding at me while I spoke.

“I could do with going to my flat first so I can get a few more bits,” I said as we approached the bus stop. “And I suppose we need to chat about living arrangements too.”

“I don’t want you to feel bulldozed into moving into my house but obviously I have the bigger place,” Joe rubbed his neck uneasily. This was making him nervous! He was so cute.

“Are you happy to give up your bachelor pad for me?” I teased and enjoyed the smirk I got in return.

“I’ve given up being a bachelor for you, I think I can cope with my house too.” Joe kissed me on the forehead and I swooned internally. Was it possible to explode with happiness? “There’s just one fly in the ointment; Byron.”

“What about him?” I asked in confusion.

“Well, I’ll need to give him some time to find somewhere else and – “

“Joe, I don’t expect Byron to move out,” I assured him.“Not immediately anyway, obviously I’d like him to have disappeared before we start a family.”

He beamed at me for a moment before picking me up and spinning me round.

“Oof!” I gasped in shock and punched him in the shoulder as he let me down. “You’ve crushed me, you mad man!” I yelped.

“I’m sorry but I got excited at the thought of us starting a family,” Joe admitted, pulling me backwards into his chest and nuzzling into my neck.

“One crazy, life altering decision at a time please, sweetie.”


	12. Chapter 12

Charlotte had the next day off work and we decided that we needed to speak to our families. Rip off the proverbial Band-Aid. I phoned my mum and then my dad, asking them to come up to London for a surprise announcement. They were both suspicious but clearly had no idea what I had instore for them.

Zoe was harder to convince.

“Can’t you come to Brighton?” she asked as soon as I invited her to mine.

“Not really, there’s a reason but I can’t tell you yet, so you’re just going to have to trust me.”

“Oh, Joe, you know I hate coming to London.”

“Please, Zo, this is really important to me,” I appealed and she eventually agreed to come with the caveat of being allowed to bring Nala.

Charlotte’s dad and sister were coming and were incredibly suspicious that they were being sent to some random address and not her flat. It took a lot of skill on her part not to just blurt it out over the phone.

We spoke to Byron that night who was overjoyed he didn’t need to look for somewhere immediately, although he promised he would take care of our children if he was still renting a room at that point.

The first to arrive was Zoe and Alfie. Charlotte waited tentatively on the sofa whilst I opened the front door.

“Broseph!” Zoe squealed and wrapped her arms around me, giving me an affectionate squeeze before picking up Nala and pushing her into my face.

“Bloody hell, Alan!” I exclaimed as she licked excitedly at my face. Alfie and I exchanged hugs and they both chatted animatedly for a moment between themselves and Nala.

Zoe stopped as she noticed Charlotte in the living room and she shot me a knowing glance.

“Joseph Graham Sugg, have you got a girlfriend?” she chorused at me and tickled my sides until I begged her to relent.

I ushered them into the living room and Charlotte stood up, smoothing her black dress down and running a hand over her curls. She was wearing her hair down and it framed her face in a massive halo, ringlets protruding at every angle. Waves of anxiety pulsated from her and I crossed the room to be at her side.

“This is Charlotte – “

“Hi Charlotte, nice to meet you,” Zoe cut me off before I could finish. “I’m Zoe and this is my boyfriend Alfie. I’d love to say that I’ve heard all about you, but I’m afraid Joe has kept us in the dark.” She shoots me a pointed look and Charlotte and I exchange amused glances.

“As I was saying,” I continued, “this is Charlotte, and she is my wife.”

Silence.

“She’s your what?” Zoe asked with a deathly low voice.

“Wife.” I repeated.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.” Zoe sat down on the sofa and dangled her head between her knees for a moment.

“What the hell, Joe?” Alfie asked with an expression of shock that quickly turned into one of amusement. “Is this a bloody prank?” he exclaimed, looking around the room for cameras.

“I think you need to stop pranking people, babe.” Charlotte muttered under her breath at me and we suppressed our mirth by clamping our mouths tight.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence the doorbell rang and we all jumped.

I viewed the small screen next to the door and an image of a large man filled the tiny monitor. It must be Charlotte’s dad, or we were being robbed. He looked like a gangster but I’m sure she told me he was a primary school teacher.

“Char,” I called across to her. “It’s your dad, I think.”

I opened the front door and Charlotte slipped out to meet him at the lift. She kissed me chastely and raised her eyebrows. “Wish me luck,” she whispered.

Zoe had stood up again and folded her arms across her chest. She and Alfie were having a heated discussion as I approached them.

“Are you insane?!” Zoe hissed at me before I had a chance to explain any further.

“Maybe,” I shrugged, “but I need you to understand something. We are in love.” Zoe rolled her eyes at me and Alfie scoffed.

“You don’t know what love is, Joe!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

“Is she pregnant?” Zoe demanded.

I shook my head no.

“Is she a gold digger?” Alfie countered and I laughed.

“She’s not pregnant, we’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks and she’s certainly not a gold digger, she had no clue who I was when we met.” I explained, trying to keep my voice calm and level. The accusation of Charlotte being a gold digger was enough to make my blood boil but it would be no use antagonizing the situation.

The front door creaked open and Charlotte peered in. I beckoned her to come in and she opened the door wide to reveal a giant of a man, at least 6 foot 4, with a shaved head and such a large stature he seemed to dwarf the door way.

“Joe, this is my dad, Nigel,” Charlotte guided her dad into the room who looked around nonplussed. He reached his hand out to shake mine and completely engulfed me. This was not a man to piss off.

“Dad, this is Joe,” She audibly gulped. “My husband.”

Nigel dropped my hand and turned to Charlotte.

“What?”

“Please don’t be mad, our intention wasn’t to hurt you, but it just felt right. Like with you and mum,” Charlotte implored and the rest of the room quietened to listen in.

“Your mum and I got married after 6 months, Charli. Not…god, how long have you two even been together?” He sounded exasperated and I felt nervous for my neck. It was very long and easy to grab.

“That doesn’t matter, Dad. I know this is a shock and might take you some time to come to terms with, but I’m happy.” Charlotte reached her hand out for me and I willingly took it. She might protect me from her father.

He turned to me. “Do you love her?” he asked.

I didn’t even need to think about the response.

“I love her more than I ever thought was possible.”

Nigel looked me up and down for a moment and then suddenly seemed to notice that we weren’t the only people in the apartment. I made introductions and everyone was very politely but ultimately the atmosphere was thick with unsaid words and held back emotions.

“What do you do for a living, Charlotte?” Alfie asked after a moment’s awkward silence.

“I’m a nurse,” she smiled and this seemed to please Alfie and he looked thoughtful for a moment.

“She’s an Emergency Nurse Practitioner at one of London’s busiest A&E departments,” Nigel announced proudly much to Charlotte’s chagrin. Something told me he made a habit of making sure people realized just how qualified she was.

“Thank you, Father.” She said curtly and he simply nodded proudly.

“What about you, Joe? What business are you in?” Nigel asked.

Zoe, Alfie and I all exchanged awkward glances. It never got any easier to explain my job and now I was trying to simultaneously impress and placate my brand new father in law.

“I work in social media and run a management company.” That seemed like the safest response.

Nigel chuckled and Charlotte slapped his arm. “Dad, don’t!” she beseeched and her neck flushed red.

“I’m sorry, Joe. I’m not laughing at you,” he said, clearly laughing at me. “It’s just we used to have a bit of a running joke about people that live in London. They all have such vague jobs that are impossible to work out.”

The whole room seemed to shift uncomfortably and the sound of the doorbell made us all jump.

We had to repeat the whole rigmarole for my dad and then for my mum and Charlotte’s sister and by the time the evening rolled around we were exhausted. There were no real surprises in how our families reacted. They were each hurt and shocked in their own ways, and if the situation had been reversed I’m sure we would have reacted the same too.

After everyone left we stood by the door and stared at each other, taking a moment to catch our breath.

“Well, that was a shit show, wasn’t it!” Charlotte laughed as she ran her hands through her hair, sending it sky high.

“I’m not sure it was as good as that,” I joked, circling my hands around her waist. pulling her close and letting our foreheads rest together. “It’s the worst of it done, though.”

“Hmm.” She sighed closing her eyes and stroking her fingers up and down the back of my neck. I don’t know how long we stood like that for in the hall but it felt like we were in our own private bubble that no one else could penetrate. Until Byron came home and literally hit us with the front door.

“Oh, my bad, bru!” He chuckled as we stumbled backwards.

We sat around the sofa together and before long Charlotte was schooling Byron in Rocket League on the PlayStation. Byron was not taking it very well.

“You’ve married a ringer!” He accused on more than one occasion and eventually demanded that they change to Fortnite so they could play as a team instead.

“Do you want to stay in or go out for dinner?” I asked as they won yet another game and began devising an elaborate hand shake. “That includes you too, Byron.” I added.

“Don’t mind. Actually, have we even got any food in?” Charlotte asked. We all retreated to the kitchen and gathered around the fridge for the grand reveal.

“We have butter,” I offered.

“And beer,” Byron added.

All three of us gasped and turned to one another. “Butterbeer!” We all exclaimed before breaking into laughter.

“You should have vlogged that, bru,” Byron laughed and I had a sudden realisation.

Vlogging.

I hadn’t vlogged at all for the last week, which wasn’t necessarily unusual for me but I was soon going start receiving comments about my absence and it was only a matter of time before someone found out about Charlotte.

“I really fancy a Wagamama if you guys are up for it?” Charlotte asked and was suitably impressed when I showed off my silver chopsticks, meaning we could eat there for free.

 

*

 

“I think we need to come out ahead of the curve,” I announced after our meals had arrived at the table.

Charlotte and Byron exchanged clueless expressions before turning to me expectantly.

“I think we need to make a video where I introduce you to the viewers.”

Charlotte’s hand hovered midair, her rice falling off her chopsticks as she gaped at me.

“What?”

“It’s only a matter of time before people catch wind of what’s happened. Have you not noticed that we’ve had at least 5 people take pictures of us while we’ve been here.”

“Seriously?” She asked as she glanced around furtively and nervously tucked her hair behind her ears.

I pointed her in the direction of a group of girls who were sat in the window seats each with their phones pointed at us.

“It’s only a matter of time before someone notices our wedding rings and it ends up on Twitter. At least this way we’d control the story rather than dealing in damage control.” I said with Byron nodding in agreement.

“It’s just not something I expected would have to go onto our todo list,” she laughed ironically. “Like, I was expecting the usual; bank, utilities, passport, driving license. Just not 8 million subscribers.”

“What do you think?”

Charlotte took a long drink of her beer before answering.

“Okay,” she agreed. “We’ll do the video.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

“Why are we filming in Byron’s room?” I asked as Joe set a large camera on a tripod in front of Byron’s desk, pointing towards the bed. “Also, this looks like a porno set up.”

Joe turned on both of the lights that flanked both sides of the camera, flooding the room with a bright warm glow.

“Did I not tell you my plans for the video?” He waggled his brows suggestively and jumped onto the bed, posing like a pin up.

I pushed him over and he yelped, throwing himself off the side of the bed.

“Mariticide!” He yelled from the floor as I collapsed into giggles.

“You’re a nob!” I gasped between laughs.

“I’ve got that on camera!” Joe cackled as he peered over the bed from the floor.

We sat on the edge of the bed facing the camera which had a small screen displaying our image. We looked surreal.

Joe clapped his hands together a few times and trilled, explaining he needed to do it to sync up the audio and visual when he edited the footage.

“Uh huh, I’m sure, honey,” I teased and squeezed his knee affectionately.

“Ready?”

I took a deep breath and nodded, ignoring the nerves that had settled in my stomach.

“So guys,” Joe talked loudly to the camera and I immediately creased with laughter.

“Why are you shouting?” I asked as he looked at me in amusement.

“I’m not shouting!” He exclaimed, clearly shouting. “It’s called energy!” He enthused and continued at his same level.

“So guys, you’re probably wondering who is guest starring with me in today’s video, and from the title you’ll have realised that we have a big surprise for you.”

Joe looked at me and I had to drag my eyes away from him. It was like he was playing a character - it was still him, just an exaggerated version of him who gesticulated wildly.

“This is Charlotte, some of you may recognise her from my most recent vlog.”

I waved awkwardly at the camera and Byron, who was sat in the corner of the room, stifled a laugh. We both looked at him and he drew an imaginary zip across his lips, locked them shut and threw away the key.

“Anyway,” Joe continued with a smirk, “we have a big secret to tell you.”

We looked at each other nervously and then back to the camera.

“We got married!” Joe beamed and in unison we both held up our left hands to show our rings although Joe’s wasn’t quite as easy to see thanks to his cast. “I know this will come as a big shock but we wanted you guys to hear it from us first.”

“Please don’t hate me for stealing Joe!” I joked and held my hands up in a pleading fashion.

“I’m sure you guys will have lots of questions so send them in via Twitter on the hashtag MrsSugg or leave them in the comment section below, and the next video we do will be a Q&A. I’ll leave you with a picture of us on our wedding day and we’ll see you again very soon.”

We both said good bye and waved. Joe turned to me and raised his brows questioningly.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” I replied and kissed his nose.

“I think it is going to get a hell of a lot of views!” Byron chortled from the floor. “And I think you’re going to upset a lot of people.”

Byron wasn’t wrong.

Joe had painstakingly edited the video straight away, showing me how he did it and to be honest, I was impressed. It took a lot of skill and he labored to make sure he had funny moments, as well as a balance of seriousness. He duly finished the video with a few outtakes, specifically, me pushing him off the bed and laughing at him with his over exuberance, and with two photographs of us – one of the silly ones and one of the serious ones.

An hour after he’d posted the video both our Twitter feeds exploded. Congratulations were aimed at Joe and name calling at me. Nothing we didn’t expect.

“Are you happy to film the Q&A now?” Joe asked after we’d sat in silence on the sofa for a while, staring at our phones. “It gets it over and done with and then we can go to bed and not have to deal with it tomorrow.”

I agreed and we once again set ourselves up in Byron’s room.

“You never did tell me why you film in here,” I said as Joe tinkered with the light boxes, dimming the light brighter and then softer.

He shrugged. “This was where I filmed before he moved in and I like the background. He doesn’t mind”

“It’s a bit odd though, isn’t it?” I pressed, still not quite getting it.

“I like the separation of work and home, that’s why I don’t film in my own bedroom anymore. And viewers don’t like change,” he gestured to my phone, “as I’m sure you can see.”

We had definitely upset a lot of people. But for all the troll messages, there were still plenty that were actually quite kind; wishing us luck, calling us a cute couple. It wasn’t all bad.

“Okay, ready for round two?” Joe asked, patting the space next to him on the bed. I obediently sat next to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek and nervously smoothing my hair.

Joe did his little warm up ritual again and introduced us to the camera again. It was very strange, imagining that millions of people could watch us, yet it was just the two of us sat on a bed in Byron’s room.

“Our first question comes from Katy K on Twitter, she asks; ‘How did you two meet?’. Good question, Katy K.” Joe turned to me to allow me to answer.

“We originally met at my work - I’m a nurse – and then we ran into each other, quite literally, a few weeks after.” I explained, struggling to know whether to look at Joe or the camera.

“She LITERALLY knocked me off my feet!” Joe over-emphasised and fake laughed, sighing to himself.

I shook my head at the camera and rolled my eyes.

“I was jogging to work and Byron was walking backwards around a corner!” I explained and we both heard Byron stand up in the other room. “If anything, I knocked Byron off his feet.”

“That’s very true, bru,” Byron said as he leant against the doorway.

Joe pulled an exasperated look to the camera.

“Come and sit next to Char, Byron,” Joe motioned for him to come in. “It’ll make for a really funny jump shot.”

We filmed a silly segue where Byron and I pretended to have had our love thwarted to which Joe huffed and puffed. The three of us ended up in riotous giggles laid on the bed, each of us wiping tears of laughter away.

“Next question comes from iheartthesuggs,” Joe read out once we had composed ourselves again. “She or he asks; ‘Who said “I love you” first?’”

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” came Byron’s disembodied voice from the other room.

“Do you want to come back in here, Byron?” Joe called and Byron immediately appeared at the door.

“I’ll be completely invisible,” he said solemnly before jumping behind us and sitting at the head of the bed, producing a bowl of popcorn from his bedside cabinet. We exchanged glances before turning back to the camera.

“I was the first to say it and Charlotte said it back straight away,” Joe explained and I nodded in agreement.

“Well, I actually asked if you were pranking me first,” I chuckled, remembering that night of less than a week ago. It was pure madness that tomorrow would essentially be the one week anniversary of our ‘first date’.

“Oh yeah you did!” Joe laughed. “In fact I think everyone we’ve told about has asked us if we’re pranking them, which says a lot about me really!”

Joe handed me the phone to pick and read the next question.

“This question comes from Bryonyxx, she asks; ‘How long have you been together?’” I looked pointedly at Joe as our necks reddened and Byron snorted behind us.

“Well, we could make up a lie, and say we’ve been in a secret relationship for x amount of years, but we want to be 100% honest with you guys,” Joe glanced at me for confirmation before continuing.

“We had our first kind of ‘date’,” Joe used air quotes around the word date as I smirked, “last Saturday, we flew to Vegas on the Sunday night, arrived on Monday, got married on Tuesday and flew back on the Wednesday.”

“I think you should just leave that as is,” Byron commented with a mouthful of popcorn.“Like, don’t explain it any further, jump cut to the next question.”

Joe appeared to mull it over for a moment before agreeing. “I like it. Babe?”

“You do your thing,” I enthused.“But I do think Byron should ask the next question – like he’s part of the audience?” I suggested.

“Love it,” Joe beamed.

The next couple of questions alternated between Byron’s own questions and ones he picked out from submissions. None of them very taxing, just typical general knowledge questions like age, star sign, job etc. We finished the video after a quarter of an hour and tidied up the popcorn mess that had inevitably spread around the room.

“Is it bedtime now?” I asked wearily, rubbing at my eyes and stifling a yawn.

 

*

 

The weekend passed in a blur. I worked long shifts both days and had to field questions from patients, patients kids and even colleagues about Joe. I even had a special visit from the hospitals media relations team to make sure I wasn’t breaching any protocols.

Monday was a very welcome day off, but, as is typical in life, Joe had meetings most of the day. I went back to my flat and started boxing up my things, try hard not to feel nostalgic for the past but positive for the future. Surprisingly it only took a couple of hours to have the whole place packed, although my flat was so small there could hardly be a lot of things in there. After arranging for a man with a van to come the next day and transport the stuff the short distance to the apartment, I made appointments with the bank and began the arduous task of getting my name and address changed everywhere.

I walked back to the apartment from my old flat, marvelling at the relatively short distance. The temperature was slightly cooler now, the intense heatwave from the start of the month had settled into a more UK appropriate summer and I could comfortably stroll without feeling hot and flustered.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when a large and obnoxiously blue BMW pulled up beside me, the horn blaring and a familiar face hanging out the passenger window.

“How much?” Joe called in an exaggerated whisper.

I pursed my lips together and threw my hair over my shoulder.

“Pfft,” I shooed him away. “I’m afraid you couldn’t afford me.”

Joe feigned shock and then laughed. “Want a lift?”

I shook my head no. “I’m enjoying the walk, thanks.”

Joe hopped out of the car, collecting his bag off the back seat before waving to the driver.

“I’ll walk with you,” he smiled and my stomach flip flopped. How had I been so lucky? His hair had been styled in his usual pushed back quiff when he left the house this morning but it was now a messy pile on his head, a few tendrils escaping to hang over his forehead.

I held my hand out for him to hold and we walked in comfortable silence for a few moments.

“Excuse me?” A small voice came from behind us.

We turned to see two young girls, maybe 12 or 13, both wearing Sugg Life t-shirts and expressions of pure joy, breathless with excitement.

“Can we have a picture please?” They asked nervously. Joe was incredibly sweet with them and I stepped back out of their way. He took their phone to take the selfies and they turned to me expectantly. “Can we have one with you in as well please?”

“Me?” I almost looked around to see who they could be talking to.

“Come on, babe,” Joe motioned for me to join them and I almost had an out of body experience, posing for a selfie on the streets of Battersea.

When we got back home Byron was waiting in the hallway with his hands behind his back and a huge grin on his face.

“Why do you look so suspicious?” Joe questioned as we kicked off our shoes.

“I’ve got your wedding present!” He beamed and produced a canvas frame from behind himself with a flourish. He turned it over and presented us with the image; the one sensible photo we took at the end of the ceremony. We looked happy.

“Oh, Byron that’s so sweet,” I gushed and pulled him into a hug.

“Mate, that is so nice of you,” Joe hugged the pair of us, squashing us together and only squeezing harder when we complained.

“What do you fancy for dinner?” I asked as we wandered through to the living room. “Will you be joining us Byron?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got a date in a bit,” he winked at us before shooting finger guns and retreating to his room.

“I wonder if it’s the same girl as last week?” Joe raised his eyebrows and smirked.

“Does he go on a lot of dates?”

I didn’t need to wait for a response, Joe’s expression was enough to tell me all I needed to know.

“I don’t think we need to wait up for him,” he laughed.

I looked in the fridge for dinner inspiration and nearly fell on the floor in shock. Perched on the shelf was a ghastly looking clown mask, perfectly positioned at face level for optimum shock factor. I heard Joe howling behind me.

I turned to face him, my face a pure picture of shock and disbelief, one hand clutched to my chest. Joe was pointing his vlogging camera at me as he creased up, slapping the countertop in great hilarity.

“You absolute dick!” I shouted, laughing in relief and looking for something to throw at him. I settled on one of his protein bars that he’d left by the fridge.

“No, Charl, don’t!” he begged, ducking around the breakfast island as I launched the bar at him, hitting him squarely on his forehead.

“Oof!” he exclaimed, dropping his camera and hitting the floor, laughing and groaning at the same time. “Bloody hell, those bars are like concrete!” he whined from the floor.

I quickly grabbed the clown mask from the fridge. “Oh, sweetie. Come here and I’ll kiss it better.” I singsonged in a baby voice and slipped on the mask, ducking down on the other side of the island. I heard him stand up and pause before jumping up from my hiding place and roaring.

“Fucking hell!” he shrieked.

I laughed so hard I had to sit on the floor, tears were streaming from my eyes and the sight of Joe laid on the floor clutching his chest just made me worse.

“I’ve only got a little heart!” he groaned as I tried to compose myself.

“You started it, pal.” I reminded him as he lay shell shocked on the kitchen floor. “I was going to say ‘no one messes with a Ritchie’ but I suppose that’s not true anymore.”

Joe sat up and looked at me in disbelief. “No one messes with a Sugg,” he said with a look of glee. “I say that in my prank videos!”

We shared a smile and I crawled over to him. He’d propped himself up against the wall and straddled his legs, lowering myself into his lap and kissing him.

“Is it weird how in sync we are?” I asked, wiping off the gloss I’d left behind on his lips. “How are we so comfortable with each other already?”

Joe searched my face with a serious expression that I hadn’t seen before. He looked older than his years suddenly.

“When it’s right, it’s right,” he said and I felt the warmth of his love envelope me, creating a bubble around us. I was so safe with him.

He leant up and cupped my face with his hand, his thumb caressing my cheek. Our eyes locked and we kissed, tentatively at first but turning more and more passionate as our hands explored each other. Joe brought his knees up, forcing my crotch into his groin and grinding onto his erection. The harsh denim of his ripped jeans rubbed against me as he thrust his hips forward and I gasped. I only had the thin material of my knickers covering me.

My gasp seemed to light a fire in Joe and he gripped me hard, groaning as he thrust again. We pulled apart for a moment, fighting for breath.

“What if Byron walks in?” I breathed, our intent very evident.

“Do you care?” he murmured, his breath hot in my ear.

I ground into him, delighting in his barely restrained groan. I pulled aside my knickers and ground into him again, the denim creating an intense friction that made me throw my head back.

“Shit,” Joe moaned and grabbed my hips to still me. “I’m not going to be able to wait.”

I reached down and undid his belt, pulling down the zip of his fly to free him and positioned myself over him, slowly lowering myself. It was intense and for all our frantic actions previously, we were slow and deliberate. Each movement languid and sensual.

“Joe, oh god,” I breathed, feeling the pleasure building exponentially within me.

“Fuck,” he groaned and we both tipped over the edge, gripping each other and rocking back and forth until our breathing eventually slowed down. Joe kissed my neck as we remained on the floor, locked in our embrace.

“Guys, did you decide - oh,” Byron halted at the door and spun around quickly.

We jumped apart, scrambling to our feet as Joe pulled up his fly and I pulled down the hem of my dress.

“I didn’t see anything, I promise!” Byron insisted with his hands in the air.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Charlotte was stood at the hob, stirring the onions around the pan with one hand on her hip. She was staring at the pan but it was evident she was daydreaming. I slid onto one of the barstools across from her and watched as she absentmindedly made a figure of eight with the wooden spoon, moving around the browning onions.

Her cheeks still had a slight rosy colour from our earlier exploits and her curls were as unruly as ever, the heat from earlier and from standing over the pan causing an explosion of volume.

I waved my hand into her eye line. “Earth to Charlotte,” I singsonged.

She broke out of her reverie and looked at me quizzically for a moment before smiling.

“Sorry,” she answered, shaking her hair back and breathing deeply. “I was lost in a daydream.”

“I could see that,” I smiled. “What were you thinking about?”

Her face flushed deeper and her beautiful, uneven smile created a dimple in her right cheek.

“I was thinking about you,” she avoided my eye contact, and focused hard on the onions.

“Me?”

Charlotte looked at me shyly and I left the stool, standing behind her at the hob and wrapping my arms around her, letting my chin rest on her shoulder.

“I was thinking about how much I love you,” she said and I marvelled at the frisson of warm energy that flooded me. Would I ever get used to hearing that?

“I AM LEAVING MY BEDROOM!” Byron hollered from down the hall. I squeezed Charlotte before planting a kiss on her cheek and letting her go, I wasn’t sure Byron’s nerves could take seeing us in another embrace. “I AM ENTERING THE LIVING ROOM!”

Byron entered with one hand across his eyes and the other feeling his way around.

“We’re decent, Byron,” Charlotte laughed and he removed his hand to look at us.

“Just thought I’d give you plenty of notice this time.”

He sat of one of the stools and I joined him, both of us watching Charlotte cook. She had added chicken and was mixing in various herbs and spices, the aroma filling the kitchen.

“Damn that smells good,” Byron grinned, wafting air under his nose to inhale the scent. “What are you making?”

“Fajitas,” she pronounced it ‘fa-heet-aahs’ with a dramatic flourish and corrected us anytime we said it differently. “I’ve made enough for you as well, in case you changed your mind.”

“She’s a keeper,” Byron turned to me with a wry laugh, “you should marry her.”

“Eh, we’ll see,” I joked and was rewarded with Charlotte flipping us both the bird.

“Have you got a few little serving dishes to plate up all the bits and bobs?” Charlotte asked as she started to assemble the rest of the fajita fillings.

Byron and I exchanged nonplussed glances and shrugs before Charlotte concluded it was pointless asking us and began hunting through the cupboards.

“When my stuff gets delivered I won’t have this problem,” she said, eyeing her mismatched collection of ramekins, pasta bowls and a Pyrex dish. Byron and I barely acknowledged the dishes as we greedily filled our tortillas to bursting point.

“Holy shit!” Bryon exclaimed with his mouth full. “Screw you, Joe. Can I marry you instead?” He asked Charlotte as he took another large bite of his wrap.

I smiled smugly when Charlotte brandished her wedding ring and declared herself to be taken. It also reminded me that I still needed to buy an engagement ring.

When Byron and I were alone at the sink, tidying up after dinner I asked his opinion on ring shopping and whether I should do it as a surprise.

“I dunno, bru,” he contemplated for a second. “Charlotte seems like the sort of person that would prefer to collaborate than be surprised.”

“That’s what I though, but I’m a bit worried she’ll say she doesn’t want one.”

“Why?”

“This is gonna sound stupid, I know, but I think she thinks I’m too ‘showy’,” I used air quotes around the word showy. “Like, I just upset her when we were in Vegas and got the big flashy penthouse. I worry that she’s too good for me. I’ve never met anyone like her and I’m scared she’s going to get sick of my way of life.” I clenched my jaw anxiously. It was the first time I’d said my fears out loud.

Byron considered his answer for a moment before speaking. “From what I can tell she has her head screwed on. She wouldn’t have married you if she didn’t love you, I know that for sure. And from what I can tell, she doesn’t care about your fame. Surely that’s better than someone who does?”

I nodded and contemplated his words. I could be sure that she didn’t want me for my money, so she must see something in me that’s worth her sticking around? I just needed to strive to be the person she thought I was.

“Talk to her,” Byron insisted, taking the pots out of my hands and indicating with his head for me to go.

Charlotte was sat in the corner of the sofa with her legs crossed, MacBook resting on her lap as she furrowed her brow at the screen. She looked up as I approached and her expression softened instantly.

“Whatcha looking at?” I asked, throwing myself down next to her. “You’re not looking at Twitter are you?”

“No,” she snorted, “I’m not making the mistake of going on there again. I’m just reading some nursing articles.”

“Cool, what’s it about?”

“It’s about understanding the human and system factors involved in medication errors.”

I blinked. “Okay.”

She smiled and closed the laptop, putting it to one side and snuggling up to me. I inhaled deeply, glorying in her scent. I lazily trailed my fingers up and down her back which seemed to elicit small shivers from her.

“I wanted to run something past you,” I said, wrapping my finger in one of her curls. “Well, we didn’t do things on the right order and we haven’t exactly followed tradition, but I was wondering about an engagement ring...” I trailed off.

She sat up, grimacing slightly as I couldn’t untangle my finger quick enough and it pulled at her hair.

“I’m not gonna stop you from getting one, obviously, but I think your friends might pick on you.”

I blinked again. “Why would my friends pick on me?” I asked, confused and bewildered.

“I know your friends aren’t exactly the definition of toxic masculinity but I still think they’d find it a bit odd if you started wearing an engagement ring,” her eyes twinkled as the penny dropped. She was pulling my leg.

“Ha ha,” I deadpanned. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

“I do and I love you for it, but it’s not something I need. I wouldn’t even be able to wear it half the time because I can’t wear anything like that for work,” she smiled at me and brushed my hair back from my forehead. “I’d rather we put the money we would’ve spent into a savings account and maybe next time I go to Uganda, you could come with me?”

“Really?” I stared at her. I knew her inviting me was a huge deal for her. The fact she wanted me there meant the world to me. “You’d really want me there with you?”

“Of course,” she smiled and leant into me, pausing just before we kissed with her smile faltering. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“Are you kidding?” I pulled her into the kiss. “I would love to come with you.”

“Oh are you two kidding me?!” Byron cried as he came to sit on the sofa, catching us embracing again.

We giggled as we separated, offering halfhearted apologies to him and sitting up straight.

 

*

 

“Arrrrrrggghhh, good morning, everyone!” I stretched and groaned into the camera. “It is six o’clock IN THE MORNING and I am wide awake. ‘Why are you awake at that ridiculous hour, Joe?’ I hear you ask.” I panned the camera across to Charlotte who was battling her hair into a ponytail. “That’s because Wifey here, set her alarm for 05.50.”

“Listen,” she turned to me and the camera with her hands on her hips. “Just because you’ve forgotten your thatching days and can’t remember what it’s like to have to get up at a reasonable hour-”

“How is this a reasonable hour?!” I cut her off and she laughed, returning to the mirror to fix her hair.

“Think how much stuff you could get done today with an early start,” Charlotte teased, deftly running mascara over her lashes.

I turned the camera back to myself and feigning a look of disgust and pulling the covers over my head. Switching off the camera and fighting my way out of the sheets, I laid back and watched her. She’d commandeered my burgundy Sugg Life hoody and pulled it on over her bra, a thought I was trying hard not to dwell on.

“Are you definitely sure you need to go to work?” I asked, flicking back the covers next to me and patting the mattress, waggling my eyebrows suggestively.

She sighed affectionately and rounded the bed to me. “I would much rather be in there with you but the NHS made this weird rule that if I want to be paid I actually have to turn up for my shifts.”

“The public sector is baffling to me,” I murmured leaning in to her as she perched on the side of the bed. I knelt behind her, laying delicate kisses on the back of her neck, delighting in her sudden shallow breathing. I slipped my hand under her hoody, tracing my fingers along her stomach and pausing at the underwire of her bra. She arched her head back, allowing me to continue my trail of kisses to her jaw line and quivered ever so slightly when my fingers pulled down the cotton cups of her bra and gently grazed her nipples.

“I’m going to miss my bus,” Charlotte breathed but made no attempt to move away from me. I could feel her pulse quickening under my lips as I continued. “Oh, fuck it,” Charlotte groaned and turned to me, pulling off her hoody and pushing me down into the mattress.

 


	15. Chapter 15

The day had finally arrived for Joe to have his pot removed and I was only working a half day so we could head straight down to Brighton after his appointment.

I laughed when I saw him, his left arm a couple of shades lighter than his right thanks to the glorious summer weather. The sight of his wedding ring still caused my stomach to flip flop and now it was no longer impeded by his cast.

“I’m looking for my husband, have you seen him?” I asked as I approached him. “He looks very similar to you but he has a purple cast on his left arm. It’s the only way I can identify him.”

“Is it weird that this is the first time you’ve seen my left arm?” he asked after we’d kissed hello.

“Don’t forget I was the one that examined it in the first place!”

“I meant as a couple,” he brandished his left arm for me to inspect. I looked at it carefully and shrugged.

“Eh, it’s fine I suppose.”

Joe simply tutted and took my hand, walking towards the exit. “I’ve got everything in the car, do you want to get any food or just get straight off?”

“I’ve no doubt that Zoe will have prepared a spread for our arrival, I wouldn’t want to spoil it,” I smiled and he nodded in agreement. It was the fourth time we were going down to Brighton in the 4 weeks we’d been married. Joe was desperate for me and his sister to get along and as it was his birthday the next day, we’d been invited to spend a couple of days with them with Zoe desperate to throw Joe a party.

The journey down to Brighton passed in no time, mainly thanks to Joe’s new Aston Martin DBS that had been loaned to him for a few weeks but also thanks to our karaoke sessions to the first two Linkin Park albums.

“I know it’s controversial, but I genuinely think Meterora is the better record,” Joe said as we reached the end of the second album.

“I dunno. It’s hard for me to pick a one,” I replied, searching through my phone for the next song to put on. “It’s like choosing a favourite child.”

“Is it comfy?” Joe asked and furrowed my brow in confusion. “Sitting on that fence?”

“Oh, jog on!” I chided, rolling my eyes and trying not to smile.

We paused momentarily outside Zoe’s house, waiting for the electric gates to open to allow us onto the gravel driveway. The tires crunched the small stones as Joe reversed into the space next to the garage and I took a moment to steel myself.

Zoe and I got on well but I couldn’t help but feel like an outsider in her house. She went out of her way to make me feel welcome but she and Joe loved to reminisce about their childhood and took great pleasure in referencing pop culture that only they understood. Alfie was still very wary of me and I found him very hard to get along with. He didn’t make his distrust of me obvious but I could feel it, in the way he spoke to me, or rather didn’t speak to me.

As we approached the door it opened and Nala ran out, jumping up at the pair of us, snorting with glee. Zoe stood in the doorway with her vlogging camera trained on us, shouting Nala back and encouraging us in.

“Oooh, look at you two!” she sing-songed and panned the camera up and down us. “Quite the fashionable couple.”

Joe wore his black ripped jeans, white fitted t-shirt and leather jacket. He looked like a rock star, or he was auditioning for Danny Zuko, but either way he pulled it off effortlessly. I wore my black belted shirt dress and had forced my hair into a chignon, although most of it was trying desperately to escape after my shift at the hospital.

“You look like you’ve stepped out of the fifties!” Zoe continued, making us both twirl for the camera. “Charlotte, you need some red lipstick to finish off the look.”

“I know, I came straight from work and forgot to ask Joe to pick up my makeup bag.”

Zoe held out her hand and when I took it she dragged me up the two flights of stairs to her makeup room. She set her camera up on one of the cupboards and sat me on the chair by the dresser.

“Right, this look requires winged eyeliner and red lips,” she declared, rummaging through her drawers and pulling out various items. I sat still while she painstakingly applied the lipstick and eyeliner, barely daring to breathe.

“You’ve got beautiful eyes,” Zoe tilted her head and considered me for a moment before declaring me done.

“Thank you,” I glanced in the mirror and instantly appeared more glamourous. My lips were a deep red, almost oxblood and my eyes had a delicate flick of eyeliner instead of my usual thick layer.

Joe winked at me as we joined him and Alfie in the kitchen. As expected Zoe had prepared a party worth spread. A baked camembert and crudités took centre stage with various platters of fruit and salads surrounding it. Before we were allowed to tuck in, all three of them had to capture it for their respective vlogs and I smiled to myself.

“Here’s to Joe’s last day of being 26!” Alfie held up his glass in a toast and we all followed, clinking our glasses together and cheering.

“He’s turning into and old man right before our eyes,” Zoe laughed and poked at Joe’s sides, taking great joy in making him squirm around.

“Less of the old talk from you,” Joe chuckled. “I think you’ll find that I’m positively a baby next to you two!” Joe indicated to me and Zoe and we gasped in pretend shock.

“Hang on, is the age difference between you two the same as me and Zoe?” Alfie asked once we’d stopped trying to tickle Joe. “We’ve got 3 and a half years between us.”

“I think ours is 3 years and 10 months,” Joe replied, looking to me for confirmation.

“You Suggs are weird, man!” Alfie exclaimed and pulled out his camera, proceeding to explain to it the gist of what we’d just discussed.

We moved into the dining room and played different board games, although Zoe and Alfie’s collection far surpassed any I’d seen before. They had so many I’d never even heard of and they took great joy in introducing me to them, before declaring me a cheat when I picked them up quickly and began to outperform them.

“I’m not having that!” Joe cried as I won another round of Dobble.

“You must be looking at your cards before us,” Alfie groaned and threw his cards back on the table, picking up his camera that he’d left running on a time lapse and pointing it at me.

“How can I?” I chuckled, collecting the cards together, deftly shuffling them and dealing them back out within a moment.

“Look at that!” Zoe gasped. “She’s a bloody croupier!”

We fell about laughing before Alfie insisted we changed to a different game, preferably one that wasn’t card based. After a while we moved into the living room to put on a film and curl up on the sofas and it wasn’t long before I felt my eyelids droop. I was so comfortable, laid with my head in Joe’s lap, Nala curled up at my chest.

I was aware of Joe moving, sliding out from under me, but it wasn’t quite enough to fully rouse me from my sleep. He laid a blanket over me and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

Sometime later I woke, extremely confused with my surroundings and needing a moment to adjust. I checked my watch; 12.30 am. Looking around I saw Zoe curled up on the other sofa, fast asleep and wrapped in a blanket as I had been. There was no sight of Joe or Alfie.

I crept out of the living room, trying not to wake Zoe, in search of Joe. Raised voices echoed from the kitchen and I tiptoed forward.

“I appreciate you wanting to look out for me but you have no idea,” Joe sounded exasperated.

“If she really loves you she won’t care,” Alfie responded and I froze. Were they talking about me? I felt a pang of guilt for eavesdropping but my curiosity had been piqued.

“That’s not the point!” Joe’s voice rose louder again. “Alfie, I’m not going to ask her to sign a fucking contract.”

I felt an icy sensation flood my veins and I wanted to back away but my feet were firmly planted to the floor.

“So what happens in a couple of months when this all goes tits up and she fucks off with half your money?”

“Wow. You have no idea at all, do you?” Joe spat and I heard him starting to walk away. I still couldn’t move myself and Joe appeared at the top of the hallway, his step faltering and angry expression melting as soon as he saw me. “Charlotte…” he started and I felt hot tears prick at my eyes, threatening to spill over onto my cheeks.

“Is that really what he thinks of me?” I asked quietly. Joe rushed towards me and wrapped me in his arms as Alfie stood awkwardly in the background.

“This isn’t personal, Charlotte. I like you, but surely you must see how this looks?”

“I couldn’t care less how this looks,” I pulled away from Joe to face Alfie. “If you actually knew anything about me, you’d understand that.” I wiped furiously at the tears that had dared to fall down my cheek.

Alfie looked at the floor and said nothing.

“I hate the fact that Joe is a celebrity, and I’m wracked with guilt every time we spend money frivolously because all I can picture is how that could have changed somebody’s life. You know nothing about me, or my feelings.” I turned on my heel, unwilling to let him see me cry and walked away. I wanted to be at home but I had no way of getting there, everyone apart from Zoe had drunk far too much to drive.

Joe followed me as I headed for the front door, my instinct to get outside and be far away from conflict.

“Char, stop,” Joe pleaded, placing his hand in the door to stop my from opening it. “Where are you going? You haven’t even got any shoes on.”

“I just want some air, Joe.” I kept my voice low and level. He relented and moved his hand, allowing me to open the door and the instant rush of cold air was instantly soothing.

I sat on the steps of the porch and let a few self-indulgent sobs escape before shaking my head back and taking in some cathartic breaths. It wasn’t that Alfie had said those things, but the realisation that he was saying what everyone else was thinking. For weeks I’d had a constant flow of Tweets and online magazines calling me every name under the sun, speculating about my intentions and placing bets on when we’d announce our separation.

I’d mostly taken it with a pinch of salt, laughing it off and pointing out the multitude of grammatical errors that blighted every article. But each new story had slowly chipped away at me, making me more and more fearful that Joe would start to think there was some truth to the rumours. And although I knew that Joe and I were strong and I was confident in our love, there was only so much I could listen to before it started to take a toll.

I heard the front door gently open and close behind me and I braced myself for either Joe or Alfie. To my surprise Zoe sat down next to me, engulfing us both in a blanket that she wrapped around our shoulders. I hadn’t noticed that I was shivering. We sat in silence for a few minutes.

“You’ve been the best thing that’s ever happened to Joe,” she said earnestly. “Any fool can see that.”

“Clearly not,” I retorted and Zoe smiled kindly.

“Alfie doesn’t mean any harm. He’s a business man and sometimes he thinks more practically than romantically.”

I chewed the inside of my lip while I contemplated what she’d said and proceeded to tell her what I’d been thinking. She listened carefully and didn’t interrupt with platitudes.

“I know how hard it can be to be faced with scrutiny from the media and I’ll tell you what someone once told me; an entire sea of water can’t sink a ship unless it gets on the inside, similarly the negativity of the world can’t get you down unless you let it get inside you.”

The front door opened again and we both turned to see Joe, cautiously standing on the doorstep waiting to see if he was going to be sent away. Zoe kissed my cheek and stood up, leaving the blanket behind and whispering to Joe on the way by. He took her place on the step.

“Happy birthday,” I said quietly, resting my head on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” Joe reached for my hand and interlaced our fingers. “You know I don’t think the same way as Alfie, don’t you?”

I sat up and turned to him. “I know, I’ve never felt anything but love from you. But Alfie isn’t the only one who thinks I only married you for your money. It’s just exhausting.”

“What can I do to make this better?” Joe asked, the bags under his eyes looking more prominent than ever. Worry marred his beautiful face and my heart ached for him.

“You don’t need to do anything; I just need to grow a thicker skin.” I sighed.

The next morning I steeled myself for seeing Alfie. I wanted to clear the air with him but it was Joe’s birthday and it was more important to me that it wasn’t spoiled. There was a timid knock on the bedroom door as Joe and I laid in bed, talking about our plans for the day.

“Hello?” Joe called and the door creaked open, releasing Nala into the room. The little black whirlwind jumped onto the bed and excitedly climbed over Joe, snorting with joy and attempting to lick his face.

“Oh, bloody hell, Alan!” Joe cried, blocking his face with his arms which only seemed to encourage Nala more. I sat up and grabbed Joe’s camera, turning it on to capture his morning wakeup call. The more Joe fought Nala off, the more excited she became and before long I could barely breathe I was laughing so hard.

“Happy birthday!” Zoe sang from the door way, her arms filled with bulky presents and a party hat placed jauntily on her head. Alfie stood behind her, holding a camera aloft to capture Nala’s attack. Our eyes met briefly and a silent understanding passed between us. Not today.

Like a child at Christmas, Joe ripped into his presents and showed them around gleefully, his favourite being some vintage t-shirts Zoe had found on EBay. We ooohed and ahhhed as Joe leapt out of bed to try them on, most of them a touch too big but Joe was insistent that oversized was in fashion.

“We’ll let you two get sorted and breakfast will be in half an hour,” Zoe winked as she ushered Alfie and Nala out of our room. The bed was strewn with ripped wrapping paper and it crinkled underneath us as we laid down. Joe pushed me back into the pillows and hovered above me for a moment, causing me to giggle nervously. He looked serious and playful at the same time.

“I fucking love you, Mrs. Sugg,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding and I felt my breathing quicken. I had no idea what I’d done to deserve Joe Sugg, but I would be eternally grateful to have him in my life.

“You’re alright too, I suppose,” I teased and delighted in his mischievous expression. “Do you want your present?”

“Are you going to just wrap yourself in a bow? ‘Cos that’s the only present I need from you,” Joe said, nuzzling into my neck. It took all my willpower to push him off so I could get to my bag. I handed him the envelope.

“Plane tickets to Entebbe?” Joe looked at me puzzled.

“Uganda,” I clarified.

Joe’s eyes lit up and, after checking I was serious a few times, hugged me tightly.

 


	16. Chapter 16

We had to fly from Brussels to get to Entebbe and by the time we arrived in Uganda, we’d already been travelling for 16 hours. After collecting our bags we trudged out of the airport and Charlotte led us around to where a rusty minibus was parked up. There was a small gathering of people outside it.

“Demba!” Charlotte called as we approached and a tall man, with deep dark skin, turned in response. They hugged and I stood back awkwardly for a moment. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!” She cried as they released each other.

“My beautiful, Charlotte, how I have missed you,” Demba’s accent was thick but he spoke slowly and deliberately.

“Demba, this is Joe, my husband.”

We shook hands, Demba’s engulfing mine in a two handed grasp.

“So you are the lucky man!” he cried, slapping me on the back and I swear I felt my entire ribcage shift. “I have asked many times but I could not get her to marry me,” he said, shaking his head sadly.

Charlotte rolled her eyes and chuckled affectionately. “And what about your actual wife, Demba? How would she have taken the news?”

“She would not have minded, she would be happy to have someone to share her work with.”

I wished that I’d looked up the Ugandan culture more before we’d come out. I assumed from Demba’s insinuation that polygamy was commonplace but it dawned on me that I had no real idea of typical Ugandan traditions.

We were loaded onto the minibus with some other people that had travelled from the USA and set off for our 6 hour drive to Mbale, the town where we were staying. For a while we chatted with the other passengers and found that one of the American doctor’s daughter’s watched my videos.

“We’re in Uganda and you’re still getting recognised,” Charlotte marvelled after we’d posed for selfies.

It wasn’t long before the majority of us settled down to sleep but the lack of decent suspension coupled with some seriously rough roads didn’t exactly lend itself to the most peaceful slumber.

Our accommodation was basic by our standards but luxury for the area where we were staying. The bungalow consisted of a bedroom and a small ensuite. Everything was stark white and the bed was shrouded in a mosquito net.

“We’ll have running water and electricity from 7am to 9pm,” Charlotte said as she made some adjustments to the netting. “So if you want a shower, I’d get one now before we lose the plumbing.”

The October heat wasn’t as oppressive as I had imagined it would be, in fact it wasn’t as hot as I’d imagined although the humidity certainly made up for it. The night was sticky and for the first time in our marriage Charlotte and I didn’t want to be near each other in the bed. I missed my Dyson fan and air conditioning.

Charlotte and I had discussed at length about my involvement with the trip and we agreed I should vlog it. I had reached out to the charity that she worked with and made arrangements for permissions and to allow viewers to donate or make enquiries about volunteering. They were over the moon for the exposure and I felt happy that I wouldn’t be a spare part.

In the morning I vlogged our accommodation and the group of boys that had gathered in the courtyard adjacent to play football.

“Pass me the camera,” Charlotte beckoned. “I’ll film if you want to join them for ten minutes.”

As soon as I opened the bungalow door the boys stopped playing and turned to look.

“Muzungu!” They cried and ran over to me, attaching themselves to my limbs and pulling me towards their game. I could hear Charlotte laughing behind me and she encountered me to go with them. It was similar to being rushed at VidCon.

The boys began an energetic game and took great delight in passing the ball to me to shoot at their makeshift goal. They shouted “Muzungu!” every time I scored and liked to hold my hands. It was incredible, using the language of football to be able to communicate across cultures.

After a while Charlotte approached and explained to the boys that we had to go, and that they were to head back to their village.

“Okay, Muzungus! Bye bye!” they called and ran off, laughing and cheering.

“What does ‘Muzungu’ mean?” I asked after we gathered our bits together to wait for the jeep to collect us and take us to the clinic.

Charlotte smiled. “It means ‘white person’.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not offensive, just a term that’s used for anyone white essentially,” Charlotte explained, waving her arm out to the distant vehicle. “You’ll hear it a lot.”

*

The clinic was rural and it took us an hour to reach it on roads that apparently didn’t have lanes or direction. Mopeds weaved in and out of traffic with drivers that had no helmets and two pillion passengers. London driving suddenly seemed okay.

The jeep passed through a slum and for the first time I could appreciate the real effects of poverty and destitution. It truly looked like what I’d seen on TV with things like Red Nose Day and charity appeals. The houses were brick built but with corrugated iron roofs that appeared to be a patchwork of metals. Running between the various houses and shacks were channels of open sewers, unfortunately reaching overspill point due to the recent rains. The smell permeated through the jeep and I pleaded with my gag reflex to behave.

What was remarkable, however, was the reaction of the people living in the slums. The children ran alongside the jeep shouting “Hello, Muzungus!” and when we pulled up to the clinic they surrounded us; hugging and clinging on to us or running off to fetch others to come and see us.

“Do you always get this reaction?” I asked Charlotte after I managed to reach her side.

“Yep,” she nodded. “This might be the first time some of them will have ever seen a white person, and a lot of people will know that if we are turning up to the clinic then there will be more supplies than usual. We’ll probably see an influx of numbers for a couple of days.”

The clinic itself was overwhelming. It was beyond overcrowded, with old and dirty mattresses strewn on the floor and metal framed beds that were so packed together they were touching. There was at least three children to a bed or mattress and the cacophony of cries was blood curdling.

The staff consisted of two student nurses who were on their first ever day in the clinic. There was 50 patients. I had never felt so useless in my life.

Watching Charlotte work was a truly humbling experience. She was fast and methodical but ever patient with the staff and children. She organised the workload and began delegating tasks to the two other volunteers that had come with us, who were both student nurses from the UK.

A commotion by the front entrance drew our attention as a young woman carrying a bundle of rags flew into the clinic, tears streaming down her face.

“Nisaidie! Mtoto wangu!” she cried and Charlotte ran towards her, grabbing the bundle she was carrying. It suddenly hit me; there was a baby in her arms.

Charlotte clutched the baby to her chest and ran through to the next room where there was several cots, each with three babies in and a separate cot that didn’t have any rails around it. She carefully placed down the bundle and began to strip away the layers, revealing an ashen looking baby, as still as a doll.

She quickly checked in the baby’s mouth and then placed her stethoscope on the baby’s chest, moving it around infinitesimally before placing her hands around the baby’s torso and used her thumbs to press up and down, compressing the chest.

“Ally,” Charlotte shouted to one of the volunteer student nurses. “Find me some suction or get me a syringe,” she commanded. Ally looked scared to death and fled room as Charlotte continued with her compressions.

“Niamh, get this bag valve mask connected to some bloody oxygen.”

Niamh collected a small round bag with a tiny mask attached to it from the cot and began searching around for something.

“There isn’t any tubing anywhere!” she cried, a frantic tone just edging in.

“Find a cylinder first, there might be some attached to it.”

Niamh disappeared in the same direction as Ally. I felt sick to my stomach. I could still hear the mum in the main room, sobbing and wailing and I watched Charlotte as she held the baby in her hands.

“I can’t find any suction but I’ve found some catheter tipped syringes.” Ally had a handful of dirty looking syringes and a face of terror. She wiped down a couple of them and took them to Charlotte.

“Do you know how to do compressions?” Charlotte asked and Ally nodded, taking over from her.

Niamh returned carrying a large gas bottle. “Apparently there is only this one 30 litre cylinder for the whole clinic,” Niamh tapped the gauge, “and it’s showing half empty.”

“Cut me off a bit of the tubing and then get it attached to the bag.” Charlotte instructed and took one of the syringes, connecting a short piece of the tubing to its tip before inserting it into the baby’s mouth, pulling back on the plunger and extracting a milky looking fluid.

Ally continued the compressions whilst Niamh placed the mask over the baby’s mouth, squeezing the bag every few seconds as Charlotte listened with her stethoscope again. They continued the same pattern of compressions, suctioning and breaths for what seemed like an age before Charlotte instructed them to stop. She listened intently again and I saw a small kick of the baby’s leg.

“Are they alive?” I gasped, stepping forward to get a closer look. The baby looked less ashen and seemed to be making small movements.

Charlotte nodded, her expression serious but hopeful.


	17. Chapter 17

I felt sick to my stomach after resuscitating baby Nana. Every year the clinic seemed more and more run down, despite fundraising and volunteers. It was disheartening, and beyond that, painful to be a part of.

I arranged for baby Nana to be transferred to the nearest hospital so she could have intensive care and began the arduous task of reviewing all the patients at the clinic. The two Ugandan student nurses were fluent in English and Swahili which mean translation was not going to be a problem, but they had no knowledge or experience of healthcare yet. Ally and Niamh decided to teach them some basics and as a team we managed to see the whole clinic, planning treatment or discharge for all of the patients in the main room in a couple of hours.

Joe seemed to constantly have children attached to his limbs and spent his time between playing with them and vlogging. He was empathetic and kind, treating the children the piggyback rides and pulling silly faces to make them laugh. My heart ached with love.

My sick feeling didn’t leave me for most of the morning and it wasn’t until we were readying to leave at 3pm that I started to feel marginally better. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d managed to pick up a stomach bug on one of my trips.

We sat in the jeep in silence, hand in hand as the breeze from the open windows ruffled our hair back. Dembe drove quickly, weaved wildly and made liberal use of his horn. Joe’s hand clutched mine very tightly.

“Thank you, Dembe,” I said as we arrived back at our accommodation in record time. “What time tomorrow?”

“I shall see you at 8 in the morning,” he replied, already pulling away with his foot firmly on the accelerator.

“That means nine then,” I laughed, explaining the Ugandans relaxed approach to time keeping to Joe.

Our laughter subsided quickly when my sick feeling returned without any warning, and I found myself heaving, emptying the limited contents of my stomach near enough onto Joe’s shoes.

“Oh, hell. Are you okay, baby?” Joe asked, rubbing my back rhythmically as I spat onto the ground.

“Urgh,” I gurgled and frowned. “I thought I was used to Dembe’s driving by now.”

Joe led me into our bungalow so I could brush my teeth before helping me crawl into bed. He held me in the little spoon position and I felt safe and comfortable, although still queasy.

The next few days of our trip weren’t much different. Back breaking work at the clinic followed by me feeling awful by the time we got back to our place.

“Do you not think you should go and see a doctor?” Joe asked the fourth day of me being sick in the afternoon.

I glared at him. “Have you seen the state of the healthcare system here?” I asked, preparing my toothbrush with toothpaste.

“I know, but I’m worried about you.”

“That’s very sweet but don’t you don’t need to worry. It’ll hardly be anything life threatening with these symptoms. I mean, if someone came to me with a four day history of nausea and vomiting, fatigue and mood swings I’d tell them to bugger off and take…” I trailed off.

 

Oh. Oh no. Realisation started to hit me. I’d tell someone with these symptoms to buy a pregnancy test. I dropped my toothbrush in the sink and rushed to my phone to check my calendar. I was two weeks late. How had I not noticed I was late? I suppose the prep for the trip took over our lives for a short period of time.

“What?” Joe asked, concern radiating from him. “What is it, Char?”

“I’m late.”

“For what?” He looked puzzled.

I glared at him. “What do you think I might be late for, Joe?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

His puzzled expression only deepened and he seemed to be racking his brain to come up with an answer.

“Joe,” I sighed. “I think I might be pregnant.”

He paused.

“Pregnant?”

“Pregnant.”

“Right,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, dazed. I sat next to him and he slipped his hand into mine. “Can I just double check that you’re not pranking me?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

I laughed and playfully pushed him away. “Very funny,” I teased and we looked at each other, a mix of apprehension and excitement on our faces.

“Obviously we don’t know anything for sure yet, but, how would you feel if I definitely was pregnant?” I asked.

A broad smile erupted on his face. “I’d fucking love it!” he gushed.

“Seriously? You don’t think this is all a bit too soon?”

“We got married on what was essentially our first date,” he said dryly and I chuckled. He wasn’t wrong.

“So, if I am pregnant, we’re going to keep it?”

“Our genes together? Come on, that kid is gonna be unreal!” he cajoled and I allowed myself a moment to imagine it.

Joe would be the most amazing father, he was already at child level maturity so he would have no trouble relating to them. Was I ready to let my career take a backseat and to focus on a whole new life?

“I don’t want to ruin this beautiful moment, but I’m definitely gonna vom again.” I dropped Joe’s hands and ran through to the toilet again.

The next day we had a long chat about the trip, deciding to cut it short. Joe was desperate to find out if we were pregnant and I was worried about the risks of us staying if I was. It had never bothered me before, the chance of contracting a disease. I was careful, followed proper protocols, and didn’t feel any danger. But now, with the possibility of carrying our baby, I couldn’t risk anything happening.

Getting home was hard. The journey back to Entebbe was gruelling with my nausea and Joe was attentive to the point of smothering. He was vlogging the experience, claiming it would be incredible to look back on, but I wasn’t as convinced when I caught sight of my green pallor and constant sheen of sweat. Joe kept insisting I was glowing. I threatened to make him glow.

“I’m not doing it in the airport, Joe!” I laughed as he ran towards the shop in the terminal once we’d collected our luggage.

“Fine,” he whined, “but I can buy one here and then you can do it as soon as we get home.”

“Okay,” I agreed, trying hard not to smile at the look of glee on his face when he ran off to buy the pregnancy test. When he returned he’d pushed it into his jacket and approached me like he was making a dodgy deal.

“I’ve got the goods,” he sniffed.

I rolled my eyes at him. “You’ll get us dragged in for an interrogation and strip search if you’re not careful!”

“I think I might quite like that,” he teased, salaciously waggling his brows.

Joe was giddy the entire Uber ride back to our house, to the point that I had to shush him on more than one occasion. It was heartwarming how excited he was but we didn’t know anything for certain and my pessimistic brain wouldn’t allow me to start celebrating just yet.

Ever the gentleman, Joe insisted on carrying all the bags and opening every door for me. He looked like a pack horse and I looked like an idiot.

“Sweetie, please just let me carry my rucksack. It’s not going to make you a bad person,” I begged as Joe looked like he was going to buckle whilst we waited for the lift. “Besides, if I am pregnant are you really going to go for 9 months not letting me do anything?”

He looked deep in thought. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Peeing on the end of the pregnancy test was not for the faint of heart.

“Urgh!” I yelled, managing to get more on my hand than on the little applicator.

“What? What?!” Joe shouted anxiously through the bathroom door. He was not happy that I wouldn’t let him in, but my ego couldn’t take him watching me trying to manoeuvre into that undignified position.

“I peed on my hand!”

“Urgh!”

“Exactly!”

I managed to place the lid back on the test and wrap it in loo roll before getting ready to allow Joe in. We sat on the edge of the bath, the test on the counter next to the sink, swaddled in the toilet paper. The minutes ticked by.

“What will it look like? Is it two lines?” Joe asked, wringing his hands together.

I shook my head no. “It’s digital so it’ll say pregnant or not pregnant.”

“What do you want it to say? Honestly.”

What did I want it to say?

“Honestly? I don’t know.”

Joe pulled his mouth into a grim line and nodded once. I didn’t need to ask him what he was hoping for.

“That’s time,” he said, turning off the alarm on his phone. “Do you want to look together?”

“You look. I’m too nervous.” My butterflies had formed a colony in my stomach.

Joe stood up, running his hand through his hair a few times before approaching the test. He peeled back the paper like it was hiding a bomb and stared at the white stick for a few seconds.

“It says ‘Not pregnant’.”

I heard a loud whooshing sound in my ears and it felt like I’d been winded. Disappointmentwas my overriding emotion and I clamped my hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. I was crushed.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry! It says ‘Pregnant’, look!” Joe thrust the rest under my nose to show me.

“What?” I cried, looking at the little screen displaying the simple word ‘Pregnant’.

“I was doing a Phoebe, so you could see how you felt...” he explained, trailing off as he saw my expression.

“You pranked me with the results of a pregnancy test?” I asked, my voice deathly low.

“Um, technically yes.” He looked very nervous and I let a slow smile take over my face.

“We’re pregnant,” I said.

“We’re pregnant,” he replied.

“You’re pregnant?!”

We both leapt out of our skin as we noticed Byron by the open front door, mouth agog as he stared at us.


	18. Chapter 18

“Looking at this, I’d say baby is around 13 weeks.” Carly, the ultrasound technician, smiled at us and we simply gawped at each other.

“13 weeks?” Charlotte asked, sounding as incredulous as I felt. “How can that be possible? I’ve only missed one period!”

“You may have experienced some spotting that can mimic a period, but looking at sizes I’ve no doubt that you’re at least 13 weeks along.” Carly removed the probe as Charlotte winced. That was my first shock of the day, ultrasounds aren’t like how they show you on the telly. Turns out the majority of the time they’re internal, or transvaginal as Charlotte explained at my bewildered expression, only deepening my confusion.

“I can’t believe this.” Charlotte shook her head and sat unmoved on the special chair. “Do you realise what this means, Joe?”

I wasn’t sure what was up and what was down. I was in a full tail spin.

“It means that I must have fallen pregnant in our first week together.”

Carly glanced at her notes quickly and then looked at us in confusion. You could almost hear her brain explode as she tried to work out how a married couple could only have been together for 13 weeks.

“And you know what that means?” I replied, a disbelieving grin breaking on my face. “We lied to everyone who asked us when we broke the news we eloped!”

We shared a moment of mirth, remembering the amount of times our friends and families had questioned whether Charlotte was pregnant and how categorical our negative responses had been.

Carly eyed us speculatively before collecting the scan prints from the printer and handing them to us. I looked down at the strange blobby image. This was my baby. I wondered whether it was normal to already feel like I would happily commit murder to protect it?

“If you take this form to reception you can book in for your 20 week scan. We don’t offer 3D scans on the NHS but you can book in for one as a private patient.” Carly handed me a couple of sheets of paper and ushered us from the room.

“I’m already passed the first trimester,” Charlotte said as we made our way back to the reception area. “That’s a third of the way there.” She sounded breathless.

“Are you okay?” I asked, sensing a tone of rising panic in her voice. She nodded her head yes but clearly didn’t mean it. “Babe?”

“I’m fine!” She strangled out before staggering to the row of benches along the wall next to us. She dangled her head down between her knees, her hair grazing the floor with a soft mantra of ‘oh my god’ being repeated. I sat down next to her.

“You seem fine.”

She peered up at me and glared. I had to try hard to not to laugh as she stuck her fingers up at me. After a few moments she sat up, exhaling deeply.

“So, it turns out I may not be fine.” Charlotte smiled weakly and I took her hand in mine, squeezing it affectionately. “Joe, I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Okay, what is it that’s making you freak out?” I asked, trying to be calm and rational. In reality, seeing Charlotte panicking was making me start to panic. She’s normally so calm and composed; it was all together very disconcerting.

“I suppose it’s just thinking that we have less than 6 months together before the baby comes, and I know this is going to sound really selfish, but I don’t know how else to say it, “ she took a deep breath. “I wanted you all to myself for a bit longer.”

My heart nearly burst. “That’s not selfish. You wouldn’t even know how to be selfish if you tried. Okay, so our journey together has very much been in the fast lane, but would we be us if we’d done it any other way?”

Charlotte smiled at me but it didn’t reach her eyes. They began to well up with tears and after a moment she was sobbing.

“I’m scared,” she wept, wiping furiously at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“What of?” I asked, pulling her into my arms. It was a moment before she answered, and I held her as her sobs subsided.

“I’m scared of everything, Joe,” she looked at me, her big blue eyes now rimmed with red. “What if you stop loving me? What if we have this baby and then you leave? What if you realise you’ve made a mistake by marrying me?” She spoke fast and my head span. Was she really worrying about all this?

“I’m not going to sit here and give you a load of platitudes, but what I can tell you, is that I love you.” I spoke slowly and earnestly. “I love you more than I ever thought could be possible and I already know that I love our baby. I can’t imagine my life without you and that fuzzy looking kidney bean.”

She laughed in spite of herself and I wiped away one of the errant tears.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Joe Sugg.” Charlotte said sincerely.

“Obviously something awful.”

 

*

 

A few days later we’d finally told both of our families. A mixture of shock, vindication, andhappiness seemed to be the main themes. The boys once again assumed I was pranking them.

“Is this for real or are you pranking is?” Conor asked as the rest of them looked around suspiciously.

Charlotte held her hand out to me and rubbed her fingers together, gesturing for money. I sighed and reached in my pocket for a fiver.

“Thanks guys,” I said, slapping the note into Charlotte’s open hand. “Your predictable nature has just cost me a fiver!”

“What do you expect when you bloody prank us all the time!” Oli cried with sounds of agreement from the rest.

“And you’re vlogging us!” Caspar pointed at the camera in my hands and to be fair, I could see his point.

“So, you’re really having a baby?” Josh asked. Charlotte and I nodded.

A flurry of congratulations and hugs ensued with Charlotte being treated like she might break at any moment.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?” Mikey hands hovered around Charlotte’s stomach as if he wanted to place his hands on her non-existent bump. She eyed him warily as she stepped towards me.

“It’s a couple of weeks too early for that and I’m not sure whether we actually want to find out,” she said, snaking her hand around my back and resting her head on my shoulder.

“Oh my god, Joe’s going to be a dad!” Caspar shouted, jumping up and down, excitement and happiness exuding from him. I beamed with pride.

 

*

 

“I can’t believe we’re sitting down to do another one of these videos again so soon,” Charlotte laughed as I set up the lights ready for our filming. We’d come to the conclusion that we were going to have to film yet another surprise announcement video sooner rather than later, it was getting too hard to hide things, especially as vlogmas was starting in a few days.

“We need to stop having reason to do them!” I replied, pulling a silly face and delighting in the giggle it earned. I loved to make her laugh. Not just because I loved the sound or that it made me feel good, but because we had the same sense of humour. I didn’t need to change who I was and neither did she. Although, she was definitely more mature than me.

We had decided to show a montage at the beginning of the video of all the vlog footage we’d gotten so far, so it would feel like the viewers were finding out along with us, and then we would do the sit down portion.

“So that’s our big news, guys!” I started as we both beamed into the camera. I held up the scan image. “This is our little bean. I’m quite warming to the name Bean,” I turned to Charlotte who kept a deadpan expression to the camera for a moment before glaring at me.

“You can warm to it all you like, it’s not happening, pal,” she warned.

“Bean Sugg!” I snickered and she tried hard to keep her stern expression but I could see the twinkle of laughter in her eyes.

“Anyway,” she said, making a point of ignoring me and addressing the camera. “We’re just over 16 weeks, so four months along.”

“Show them your bump,” I jostled her to stand up and she obliged, pulling her hoody off and revealing her neat bump under her tight black vest. In the last month her belly had suddenly popped out and there was no hiding the fact she was pregnant. Hoodies had been our saving grace.

“Okay guys, there you go,” I said after we’d chatted for a while, rounding up the video. “I hope you’ve enjoyed this surprise announcement video. Make sure you’re subscribed to my vlogging channel so you can follow Bean’s progress.” I yelped as I received a dig to the ribs and the video diverted for a moment as an all-out tickling war commenced. I won easily thanks to Charlotte’s new issue with maintaining bladder control and she screamed at me to stop before she wet herself.

“Dick,” she muttered as we regained composure and repositioned ourselves at the end of the bed.

“As I was saying, make sure to give this video a big thumbs up so we know you’re as excited as we are about Bean – I mean baby!” Charlotte rolled her eyes at me and I continued. “Subscribe to this channel if you’re not already and we’ll see you again next Sunday for the ever expanding Sugg Sunday Special!” We both waved goodbye to the camera for a moment before Charlotte threw herself backwards on the bed with her arms over her face.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” she said, her voice slightly muffled.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s so weird,” she rubbed at her face, the way she always did when she felt anything vaguely negative. “There’s just the two of us, sat in Byron’s room. But hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of people are going to watch us. It’s so overwhelming.”

I stayed silent but laid alongside her, and true to form she snuggled into my chest. It was like were physically unable to be apart. I inhaled the familiar scent of her hair and loved the feeling of her bump at my side.

“Do you want me to be comforting or do you want me to make you laugh?” I asked.

“Umm,” she murmured and thought for a moment.“I think I’ll take the laugh, please.”

“Okay. I went to the zoo the other day and it was empty, except for a single dog,” I paused and she looked at me expectantly. “It was a Shih-Tzu.”

Charlotte groaned and laughed reluctantly. “That was a _ruff_ one!”

“Oh, that’s how it is, is it? I didn’t take you _fur_ a fan of dog puns,” I exaggerated my returned pun with a wink.

“I just didn’t want to _hound_ you with them,” she retorted.

“Okay, let’s _paws_ this conversation for now.”

She looked deep in thought for a moment. “Woof?”

We both laughed as we tried to think of more and more ridiculous dog related puns until Byron came back home and wondered why we were laid on his bed filming ourselves shouting doggy jokes.

“Why? Do you feel left _snout_?” I asked and Charlotte nearly squealed with laughter. Byron looked back and forth between us for a beat before shaking his head.

“I’m so glad you two found each other.”


	19. Chapter 19

“Good morning everybody and welcome to the first day of Vlogmas!”

I leapt out of my skin.

“Bloody hell, Joe! I was fast asleep, you dickhead.” I rolled over in bed to be faced with Joe’s vlogging camera. I narrowed my eyes at it and clutched my pregnancy pillow, trying to find a comfortable position for my bump.

“Here she is, mother of my child, light of my life,” he purred and bopped me on the nose.

“Why are you being cheerful?” I demanded, narrowing my eyes at him. I wasn’t sure what time it was, but it felt early and the last thing I wanted on my day off was an early start.

“I’m always cheerful,” he said, feigning shock. I grumbled and pulled the covers over my head.

“You’re always an arsehole,” I muttered and heard him chuckle. He put his camera down and joined me under the covers.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Oh god, what have you done now?” I groaned, throwing the covers off our heads an pulling myself up. I wasn’t anywhere near as agile as I used to be with my bump and I was already panicking about what I would be like in the later months.

“We have to go on a small trip for you to see it.”

I narrowed my eyes at him once again and he simply smiled. It was a touch unnerving. I tried to think of what sort of crazy scheme he’d concocted but I was drawing a blank. Baby brain was truly destroying my Joe spidey-sense.

He insisted on making me breakfast in bed, which was a bit hard to enjoy with him staring at me, a look of anticipation on his face the whole time.He then tried to join me as I got washed and dressed but a firm dismissal sent him packing with his tail between his legs.

“Do I need to wear anything in particular?” I asked. Joe was lounged on the bed watching me and I felt strangely self-conscious. My boobs, belly and bum had all gotten much bigger recently and I felt very different. I’d never been a slave to my body image but there was no denying I missed my old body, despite Joe insisting I was beautiful.

“You can just wear that if you like,” he said suggestively, indicating to what I was already wearing.

“My maternity bra and bump support pants?”

“Mmm, I think they’re sexy,” he murmured, crawling towards me and biting at the air like tiger. I pointedly ignored him and pulled on my long sleeved black maxi dress. It was a flattering empire line and was one of the only things that actually fit.

“Bog off, lover boy.” I ruffled his hair and crossed the room to leave, taking no notice of his cries of disappointment.

Putting on my shoes required a lot more thought than it had done previously and I was making a habit of opting for things I could slip on which wasn’t ideal now we had the cold weather. I settled for a beaten up pair of Vans that I didn’t need to unlace before putting on.

The parking garage was cold and we walked fast to get to the car but as we approached our spaces I slowed down. The Audi wasn’t there.

“Where’s the car? I thought we had the Audi until January?” I asked in confusion.

Joe grinned, mischief painted all over his face. “Wait here!” He skipped off and I stood alone in our empty parking space, pulling my coat close around me.

A few moments later, a near-silent, sleek Jaguar SUV pulled up with Joe behind the wheel. He lowered the driver’s window and signaled to me.

“Get in, loser. We’re going shopping,” he quipped with his finest Mean Girls impression.

“So you’ve managed to wangle a freebie from Jaguar now, have you?” I asked, walking the perimeter and admiring the car’s elegant aerodynamic design. It was certainly a looker.

“Not quite,” he said, hopping out and joining me as I inspected the boot.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve bought it for us.”

I paused for a moment, studying his face. He was serious and nervous. “You bought a car?”

“I did a lot of research into which cars were the safest for babies and which were the most economical and environmentally friendly, because I know that is something important to you, and obviously me as well, and I know that I shouldn’t make these decisions without you but I –” I cut his ramble off with a kiss.

He was nervous because he thought I was going to be upset that we hadn’t discussed it, when in actual fact he’d put so much effort into making sure I’d be happy – how could I not appreciate that?

“Joe, you are the sweetest creature alive,” I whispered earnestly in between feverish kisses. I was overwhelmed with love and affection. Tears pricked at my eyes and before I could stop them, they flowed freely down my cheeks.

“What is it?” Joe asked, wiping a tear away with his thumb and his expression returning to worry.

“Nothing, I’m just happy!” I smiled through the tears which only deepened Joe’s confusion. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed, Joe. I’ve got Bean playing havoc with my emotions,” I laughed. In spite of myself, we’d gotten into the habit of calling the baby ‘Bean’.

“Okay, well is now a good time to say that this isn’t the end of the surprises…?”

*

We drove through the awful London congestion, singing along to our eclectic collection of music. Joe wouldn’t tell me any details and I didn’t have any clues to go on. I just had to sit back and enjoy the ride. It wasn’t long before we were pulling into an underground car park of what appeared to be an office block in central London. I furrowed my brow at Joe as we pulled into a numbered space but he gave nothing away.

The lifts took us up to the 12th floor where the doors opened into a lobby with two receptions. One had a sign that read ‘Margravine Management’ and the other was blank.

“Oh, are these your new offices?” I gasped, excited to see his new space. “I love the sign, that font is perfect.”

Joe held my hand and squeezed it affectionately. “There is a bit more to it than that actually,” he said, moving me over to the right and towards the empty reception area. “We actually have the whole of this floor.”

I looked around expectantly. It was a lot of space for his business, but perhaps he was considering having one lot of offices for his management company and the other for his own endeavours.

“These offices are going to be dedicated to our new foundation, which I was hoping you could help us with.” Joe audibly gulped before continuing. “It’s about fundraising and volunteering in healthcare for Uganda.”

I stood stock still. No thoughts went through my mind other than how deeply in love I was. I couldn’t articulate a word of it though and I just stood motionless with Joe watching me cautiously.

“Are you fucking serious?” I eventually said, an edge of hysteria creeping into my voice. Joe made a slight nod of his head and I burst into tears, dropping his hand and covering my face. “Happy tears!” I squeaked, hearing a sigh of relief from him as I confirmed that I wasn’t planning his death.

I sobbed for an uncomfortably long time. I felt unworthy. Joe was too good for me. How could I ever be enough for him?

“Are you okay?” he asked tentatively after what may have been an eternity.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you, Joe Sugg,” I croaked, eventually finding my voice.

“Something really, really horrible,” Joe laughed and pulled me into a hug.

The day passed in a blur. Joe had arranged for a picnic lunch in the new offices and then meetings with different business people to arrange establishing the foundation. It was mind altering.

“I’m exhausted!” I exhaled heavily and dropped myself down onto the couch. Joe removed my handbag from my arm and pulled off my shoes for me while I laid unmoving on the sofa.

“Can I interest m’lady in a cuddle?” he asked, returning from throwing my shoes in the hall cupboard.

“I’d love a cuddle,” I smiled and inched over to allow room for Joe to lay next to me. I nuzzled in to his chest and inhaled his scent, a heady mixture of his cologne and him. I felt safe and comfortable. We laid for could have been ten minutes or an hour, I had no concept of time when it came to Joe, when I gasped sharply.

“Shit!” Joe exclaimed, startled by my sudden noise.

A sharp pain had ripped across my bump, starting in the left side and shooting across to the right. It was quick and dagger like and I gasped again as it returned. I sat up and clutched my stomach.

“What is it?” he asked in concern, holding my shoulders.

“I’ve got shooting pains in my stomach,” I gasped.

“Do I need to call an ambulance?” Joe was reaching for his phone, hysteria rising in his voice.

I shook my head. “No, I think it’s just Braxton Hicks. I was reading an article that said you can get them as early as the fourth month.”

I tried hard to focus my breathing and remember what it had said to do in the article. Joe hovered next to me, unsure of what to do.

“Would you maybe run me bath?” I asked and his eyes lit up with relief at being given a task. “I seem to remember that the heat will help alleviate the pain.”

Joe disappeared into the bathroom and I heard the taps start spilling out water at full flow. I remained where I was, rubbing circles over my tummy to distract me from the pain and breathing slowly in through my nose, and out through my mouth.

After a few moments Joe reappeared, a fragrant scent of Zoe’s bath products following him. He held out his arms to help me and gingerly assisted me into a standing position. He paled immediately.

“Shit. Char look,” he gestured to the sofa where I’d been sat. There was a pool of dark red. I reached my hand down to between my legs and felt it sticky with blood. “I’ll ring an ambulance!” he cried.

“No,” I said, grabbing his arm as he fished for his phone. “Let me get in the bath and clean myself up. I’ll phone the midwife and ask her what we should do.”

Joe’s eyes widened with fear as he regarded me. I could tell he wanted to contradict me but instead he gulped hard and nodded instead. He guided me to the bathroom with his hand on the small of my back and helped me into the bath, collecting my clothes and taking them straight to the washing machine.

The water was soothing and god bless Zoe, she knew how to make a softening bath product. I closed my eyes and laid back, the sounds of a rainforest coming from the speakers. Joe slid back into the bathroom.

“I know the rainforest is your favourite from the ambient sounds,” he explained, kneeling down next to me.

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling, is there anything I can do?” He sounded so anxious, it wrenched at my heart.

“The bath is helping, thank you sweetie.”

We were quiet for a while. Joe rested his chin on the edge of the bath and circled his hand on my bump. It made a pleasant splashing sound that worked alongside the rainforest white noise to calm me.

“Will you find the number for the midwife while I clean myself up?” I asked, steeling myself for what may come. Joe disappeared again leaving me just enough time to wash myself; he must have run around the apartment. He helped me out of the bath and even tried to help me towel myself dry, despite my loud protestations.

The midwife said she wasn’t concerned about the pain or bleeding on their own, but because I had them both she wanted me to go to A&E. Joe returned to his high anxiety state immediately and it took me a good five minutes to convince him not to phone 999.

“We don’t need an ambulance. It’ll be far quicker for us to go up in our posh new car,” I said grabbing a towel to put down on the seat, just in case. Once we were on the road I then had to convince him to drive normally, and not like we were in a car chase. He was getting more and more agitated.

Magda was on reception when we arrived and she immediately phoned through to the department to have us admitted straight away. Once again my protest fell on deaf ears and before long we were located in a cubicle, bypassing most of the queue.

“There has to be some benefits of working here, Charlotte,” Abbie, one of the nursing assistants, said as she brought in a chair for Joe.

“I would have happily waited my turn,” I insisted as they both shushed me. I decided to hold my tongue.

A few minutes later and I was having blood tests taken before being wheeled around to the radiology department for a scan. Joe wouldn’t allow the porter to push me and there was a tense moment when he was asked to wait outside for me to change into a gown.

“I’m her husband,” he said through gritted teeth. “I won’t be going anywhere.”

“I don’t want him to go anywhere,” I confirmed as nervous glances were exchanged all around. He helped me into the gown and was so attentive I could have cried. I hated seeing his beautiful face marred with worry.

We grasped each other’s hands during the scan, both waiting with baited breath as the probe inched across my stomach for what felt like an eternity. The technician frequently pressed keys on the computer, saving images that just looked like static. She turned to us with an expression of confusion.

“I’m really sorry,” she started and I gripped Joe’s hand. Here was the news we were desperate not to hear. “There seems to be some problem with your notes.”

Wait, what?

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “Am I still pregnant?”

“Oh, very much so,” she reassured and smiled broadly.

“So, what is the problem then?” Joe questioned as relief surged through me and we allowed ourselves to breathe again.

“It would appear that there are two babies sharing the same placenta.”

“What?” Joe and I said in unison, our jaws hitting the floor.

“Which means you are most likely having identical twins,” she concluded triumphantly.

Not a word was uttered in the room for what seemed like hours but was more likely 30 seconds. All I could hear was my own breathing, fast and ragged. The room seemed very small all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry?” Joe croaked eventually.

“I realise this must be a big shock for you both, but from what I can see you have two healthy fetuses. You will have to have more regular scans and tests now that we know you are carrying twins, but I will get you all the info before you leave,” she paused for a moment, taking in our expressions. “I’ll give you two some time alone while I get the leaflets.”

Joe turned to me the moment she left. “Two babies?” he asked incredulously.

“Two births,” I replied.

“Identical.”

“Identical.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let you know that I’m going away on holiday for a few days so there might be a week before I update again.


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